Battle of the Sheps
by Chris7221
Summary: An Air Force Colonel that travels galaxies. An NCIS Director on a hunt. A rogue US Army General. A Commander, Spectre and Hero of the Citadel. An elite Marine Corporal in the wrong place and the wrong time. And they are right here in New York.
1. Setting the Stage

Battle of the Sheps is now on FanFiction!

* * *

><p>The Collector Base mission had gone off without a hitch. The <em>Normandy<em> had taken a lot of damage, but the advanced systems that had recently been installed held. There were some unexpected threats and some tense moments in the base, but they pulled through. Shepard was happy for the most part. Thanks to good planning and preparation, they hadn't lost anyone. After passing through the Omega 4 Relay for a second time, the _Normandy_ proceeded at a leisurely pace towards Omega.

Commander Jane Shepard was about to take off her armour and relax when the ship shuddered. The lights flickered and EDI said something about a subspace anomaly. Sighing, Shepard headed down to the CIC, purposely using the maintenance shaft instead of the elevator. She landed heavily when the ship shuddered again. Picking herself up, Shepard dashed through the CIC into the cockpit.

"Joker, what's going on?" she asked.

"I don't know!" the pilot replied. "I've lost control of the ship and Mom here says that half our systems are down."

"Well what's attacking us?" Shepard asked.

"We are not being attacked," the AI explained. "We are experiencing a subspace disturbance." Almost on cue, the ship shook again. A console exploded in the CIC as a hull breach opened up two decks below.

"Can we ride it out?" the Commander queried.

"It's not like we have much of a damn choice," Joker said, fighting with the controls.

Shepard keyed the intercom. "This is Commander Shepard speaking. We are experiencing a spacial anomaly. Please secure yourself and brace for impact."

Another wave of energy slammed into the _Normandy_, then another and another. When it finally stopped, most of the lights were out and the ship had several hull breaches. Shepard was glad she was still wearing her armor, complete with helmet. "Status report, EDI."

"Main reactor is offline. Kinetic barriers are down. Life support is at minimum capacity. Element Zero core is destabilizing. Recommend immediate evacuation."

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me the ship is going to explode?" Joker asked.

"Yes."

"Is there anything we can do about it?" Shepard asked.

"No."

Shepard keyed the intercom. "All hands, abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship. This is not a drill."

"Commander," EDI added. "The escape pods will not escape the blast radius of the _Normandy_. However the Normandy could be manoeuvred to a safe distance."

"Damn it," Shepard said, and made the decision in an instant. "Joker, get to the escape pod. I'm staying."

"Commander, if I was linked into the-" EDI was cut off.

"No," Shepard said. She keyed the intercom again. "Legion, please grab EDI's bluebox on your way out."

"Commander-" Joker began.

"Get the hell out of here!" Shepard roared. Moments later, Joker was in the escape pod. Shepard watched as it ejected, leaving her alone on the dying ship. The light were flickering red, various alarms beeping. There was still air in the cockpit, but not in the main CIC a few meters aft.

Commander Shepard wasted no time getting on the controls. As she steered the _Normandy_ toward oblivion, she wondered what would become of her crew. Wondered if they'd care to bring her back again- if they could bring her back again. Wondered if there was a heaven or hell. Wondered if she would be with Kaidan soon. But mostly, wondered how the hell Joker flew the thing.

Without warning, the ship shuddered again, hit by an unseen force. The energy was enough to finish the uncontrollable reactor overload, tearing the ship to pieces in a fiery explosion. Shepard felt herself get thrown against a bulkhead.

Then the world went black.

* * *

><p>"Oh, you have got to be kidding me, Rodney!" Colonel John Sheppard shouted at Dr. McKay. They were deep inside a Wraith ship, hurtling uncontrollably towards a black hole. They were cut off from their Puddle Jumper, surrounded by Wraith drones on all sides. The <em>Daedalus<em> had arrived, but they couldn't contact them. "Can't you reverse our course?"

"No!" Rodney McKay squeaked, hammering on his tablet. Beside him, Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla fired their weapons into the advancing crowds of life-sucking aliens.

"What about beaming us out?" Sheppard asked, slamming a fresh magazine onto his P90. "Can you contact the Daedalus?"

"Maybe," the scientist said. A moment later, he had jury-rigged a communications link. "Got it."

"Daedalus, this is Colonel Sheppard, do you read?" John asked as he gunned down another Wraith. They just kept coming. Throwing their leader off the top of a building really pissed them off. "Request immediate beam out."

"This is Daedalus, we read you loud and clear," Colonel Caldwell's voice crackled. "However the singularity is interfering with our transporters. You're going to have to get closer to the outside of the ship."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sheppard yelled. "To the dart bay, move!"

Rodney hurriedly disconnected his tablet, drawing an M9 pistol. The group dashed out the least-congested exit, running to the dart bay by sheer dead reckoning. They gunned down any Wraith they saw, narrowly missing several stunner blasts. Mere metres from the dart bay, their luck ran out. A stunner hit Sheppard in the leg, dropping him stone cold.

"Sheppard!" McKay shouted, turning back to get his friend.

Teyla stopped him. "We have to leave him."

"Can you beam them out yet?" Colonel Caldwell asked. They were getting precariously close to the black hole. Past a certain point, they wouldn't be able to escape the gravity well. To make matters worse, the Wraith ship was firing at them, causing even more strain on the Daedalus' shields.

"I can get three of them," Major Marks replied. "The fourth one is iffy, sir."

"We can't wait any longer, beam them out now," Caldwell ordered.

"Yes, sir." In a flash of light, Ronon, Teyla and Rodney appeared safely on the bridge of the Daedalus. "Having trouble with the fourth contact... damn it to hell!"

"Do you have him?" Caldwell asked, concerned.

Marks shook his head. "Colonel Sheppard is gone, sir," he said sadly. As the Earth ship pulled away from the black hole, the Wraith hive-ship continued onwards. The gravity tore the ship- and all its occupants- to pieces long before it hit the event horizon.

* * *

><p>Corporal Adrian Shephard woke up in the middle of... nothingness. It was totally black as far as the eye could see, except for a man a mere arm's length away from him. The man was creepy in a word, with a square face, pale skin, green eyes and a perfectly tailored suit.<p>

Shephard had seen the man a few times before, all in the Black Mesa facility- or what was left of it. Shephard was a Marine, assigned to a special Hazardous Environment Combat Unit, equipped with the latest equipment and the best training. They were sent in to clean up the mess that was Black Mesa- but they weren't prepared and most of them were wiped out. After they decided to pull out and nuke the place, Shephard was left behind. He fought through hoards aliens from not one but two alternate dimensions, finally confronting their big boss and successfully defeating it. Then the man in the suit showed up and whisked him away.

"Corporal Shephard," the suit began in his strange lispy voice. "I have other business to attend to so I will make this quick. I trust your rest was peaceful. I do not wish to allow you to leave, however my... superiors have made that decision for me. I do not know where you are going, but rest assured you are needed for a good reason."

Adrian didn't have time to say a word before the world went black again.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant General Shepherd sighed. Thirty thousand men dead in the Middle East. Another ten thousand so far in the war against Ultranationalist Russia. It was his war, of course, but not for the first time he wondered if it was the right thing to do. He was commander of the entire US military now. With that power, he could make the United States the most powerful nation in the world. Of course it was worth it.<p>

Task Force 141 was the cutting edge of his blade, the most elite forces in the world. The comparison was apt- Shepherd thought of them as tools. Tools to be used and disposed of when necessary.

"General Shepherd, it's ready. Just waiting on your order, sir." The "it" the aide was referring to was a massive energy pulse weapon. Built in absolute secrecy, it was located in the heart of Washington, D.C., deep underground and safe from the war above. The device had cost five hundred _billion_ dollars to develop and build, more than twice the entire US black budget would have been able to provide in the ten year development time. The General didn't know the details, but supposedly it could obliterate any city in the world with pinpoint accuracy. That was scary.

He only learned of it after the crisis had begun.

"Very well. Begin the firing sequence." On his order, massive doors opened in the ceiling of the complex, obliterating several empty husks of buildings. The device was spooled up, all the reactors brought up to full power and electricity dumped into huge supercapacitor banks. Vats of liquid helium poured into the device, keeping the superconductors at their operational temperature. The process was quick, and the device fired before the invading Russians could so much as toss a grenade into the delicate workings.

Unfortunately, another event happened at the same time. In low Earth orbit, a nuclear missile detonated. The blast wave was fairly minor, and the thermal effects nearly nonexistent. The EMP proceeded to knock out every power grid in North America and take out the EMP-hardened electronics of every military vehicle in Washington. The energy pulse also initiated a feedback pulse in the energy weapon. The energy coming in from the reactors was trapped in the device. Before anyone could react, the device exploded with tremendous force, reducing Washington to a smoking crater. Small but highly energetic subatomic particles caused local damage to the fabric of space-time, but the effects were drowned out in the sea of more conventional destruction.

* * *

><p>"...accused criminal mysteriously found dead. Federal agents refused to comment on the matter. In other news, a mysterious but harmless stellar anomaly is passing near Earth tonight. The anomaly is-"<p>

NCIS Director Jenny Shepard turned off the TV. Her organization investigated some of the most important case in the world and nobody even knew what NCIS was. Her teams- especially Gibbs' team- had taken down arms dealers, terrorists, and even an occasional foreign agent. They had saved the nation from disaster more than once and never been credited for it. All part of the job.

As she drifted off to sleep, Jenny pondered how Agent Gibbs got his boats out of his basement.


	2. The Sheps have Landed

NCIS Director Shepard was not one to jump to conclusions. Still, with no memory past going to sleep last night and ending up in an abandoned apartment, it was hard not to. She felt mostly fine except for a headache, so at least it wasn't a psychopath. Did they kidnap her for a ransom, or to get back at NCIS? And who was the kidnapper?

As she woke up more, Jenny realized that she was not tied down in any way. She also realized that she still had her gun, badge, and pocket lint. Getting up, she looked around. It was an abandoned apartment- that assertion was correct. The walls were filthy, the windows gone and the furniture destroyed. Bugs and rats had moved in to feed on whatever was left behind. Among the dirt was a bright white envelope, which she immediately picked up.

Inside was a cellphone, which she pocketed, and a wallet. Inside the wallet was a driver's license in her name with her picture, but in much better condition than her real one, credit cards (in her name), and $200 in cash. She pocketed those items carefully and unfolded the perfectly-folded letter. There wasn't a lot written on it, but what was on it chilled her to the bone.

_Dear NCIS Director Jenny Shepard_

_By act of ROB, you have been brought to an alternate universe. All your friends are gone. There is one way, and only one way to escape. Kill your adversaries._

_Your targets are:_

_Colonel John Sheppard_

_Commander Jane Shepard_

_Corporal Adrian Shephard_

_General Shepherd_

_Rob MacGuffin_

_P.S. Smile, you're on TV!_

* * *

><p>One of the hoods kicked the oddly shaped lump. The alley was unlit in the dark night, and they could barely make out the shape. "Looks like a woman, but messed up," he drawled.<p>

"That's 'cause yo high," his buddy said, jogging over. "She looks alright to me." He kicked the woman. "Hey, miss, wake up."

"I think she's dead," the first hood said.

"Naw, she ain't dead," the second argued. "See? She's breathing."

"Yeah, well, she must be knocked out or somethin'," his friend replied, moving closer to examine the woman more closely. "You got a light?"

"Why, for your joint?" the other quipped. He flicked his lighter anyway, revealing a woman in oddly angular yet curvy futuristic armor that covered the whole body. Beside her lay a pistol and an envelope. "What the fuck?"

"Looks like some kinda super armor," the first hood said after a pause. He picked up the large pistol. "Damn, this thing is big. One hell of a gun." The man aimed the pistol at the side of a building and experimentally pulled the trigger. With a tremendous report, a large hole appeared in the masonry.

"Fuck, man!" The second hood shouted. "You can't just shoot a gun like that! The cops will be onto us in no time."

Commander Shepard's eyes snapped open as the gunshot shocked her awake. Her head hurt, her body hurt, and she had no idea where she was. "Calm your shit, man," she heard a street-hood voice say. "Let's just take her shit and get outta here."

"I don't know, man." The second hood backed away. "That's some weird shit, like military shit. Do you know what they do to people who mess with that? Gitmo, that's what."

"All right, more for me then." The hood shrugged and reached for the woman. In an instant, she grabbed his arm in an incredibly strong grip.

"No one's taking anything," Shepard said forcefully, getting to her feet. The hood found himself slammed up against the wall. He tried to wriggle free, but the woman was incredibly strong and held him fast. He slammed his fist into the woman's gut, pain shooting up his arm as his knuckles broke against her solid armor.

The other hood, still carrying Shepard's M-6 Carnifex, ran out of the alleyway. He was a pretty fast runner, a track star before being kicked out of high school five years ago. Certainly faster than any _girl_ could run. He took off into the dark street, feet pounding against the empty sidewalk.

Shepard was an augmented, highly conditioned and battle-hardened marine. She had outrun Geth. She had faced off against Krogan. This guy was a street hood, and not even a very good one. In seconds, she closed the distance and slammed the man to the ground. There was a sickening crack as the man's skull impacted the bare concrete. In the alley, the other hood lay on the ground, neck snapped. Shepard dusted off her gloved hands and retrieved her pistol.

_Now, where the hell am I?_

* * *

><p>Colonel John Sheppard woke up slowly, very disoriented. The last thing he remembered was being stunned aboard a Wraith ship headed toward a black hole. The familiar sight of the Empire State Building shocked him fully awake. <em>Earth?<em>

Sheppard quickly checked himself over. No major wounds, but he still had everything he had brought to the Wraith ship. Leg felt numb from the stunner. He pinched himself. Nope, not a dream. A Wraith trap, then? He took a closer look at his surroundings. John was in the middle of a park, empty except for a few homeless people and a street cleaner. The skyscrapers of a major city rose up around him. Definitely New York. He shivered. It was early in the morning, and he was wet and cold.

As he rose to leave, Sheppard noticed the envelope on the ground. Curious, he opened it and dumped the contents on the ground. A cellphone, a wallet and a letter. He opened the letter, thinking it might offer a clue as to who the envelope belonged to.

_Dear Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard,_

_By act of ROB, you have been brought to an alternate universe. All your friends are gone. There is one way, and only one way to escape. Kill your adversaries._

_Your targets are:_

_Commander Jane Shepard_

_Corporal Adrian Shephard_

_General Shepherd_

_Director Jenny Shepard_

_Rob MacGuffin_

_P.S. Ask where Atlantis is, and people will direct you to Vancouver._

He pocketed the cellphone and wallet, then folded the envelope up and tucked it into his tactical vest. Pretty creepy and weird, but not the strangest thing he'd seen. If this really was Earth, he could probably get a hold of General O'Neill or someone else who might know what was going on. If he could-

"Freeze!" A policeman shouted behind Sheppard, drawing his own firearm. "Drop the gun!"

"Shit," Sheppard muttered to himself. "I can explain-"

"Drop the gun now!" the cop insisted.

"Listen, I'm-"

"Drop it, now!" the cop was overexcited, and probably inexperienced. Sheppard sighed and unlatched the the P90 from its sling, dropping the almost-empty weapon on the ground.

"The other gun, too!" That was going to be a problem. In his hip holster was not a standard M9 or his beloved Colt 1911, but a Wraith stunner.

"I'd really rather-"

"Drop it or I'll shoot!" the cop shouted. Reluctantly, Sheppard unhooked the hip holster and let it fall to the ground. "Now turn around, slowly with your hands up!"

John did as he was instructed, facing the policeman. He was clearly nervous, the gun shaking in his hands. "Now look, why don't we calm down and sort this mess out?"

"You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

_You have got to be kidding me!_ "Yes, I understand those rights," Sheppard replied. Hopefully O'Neill would be able to sort this out- and not fire him.

* * *

><p>"Sir, wake up," a voice called. Groggily, General Shepherd forced his eyes open. In front of him was a soldier wearing a gasmask and urban combats. The shoulder badge identified him as a Marine attached to HECU. <em>What the hell is HECU?<em>

"I'm awake, Marine," Shepherd snapped, forcing himself up. It was morning, in what appeared to be a relatively peaceful city. They were in a side street. "Give me a sitrep."

"I only woke up about five minutes ago, sir," the gasmask soldier- a corporal- replied. "Started looking around and found you. I still have no idea what's going on."

Shepherd checked and made sure he had his revolver. He wondered how he ended up on the side street of a major US city, but if he didn't know, this grunt wouldn't. "We should get to a safe area. The Russians will be here any moment."

"Russians, sir?" the corporal asked.

Shepherd mentally chided himself. The soldier had also been unconscious, and might have memory loss. Hell, he probably had memory loss. The last thing the general remembered was a massive explosion, but there must have been more to it. "What's the last thing you remember, Corporal?"

"Fighting my way out of Black Mesa," the soldier replied. "And some man in a suit saying something about getting rid of me."

"Nothing about the Russian invasion?"

"With all due respect, sir, there is no invasion. The Cold War has been done for over ten years."

Great. He was stuck in the middle of hostile territory with a deranged Marine. "There is one more thing, General," the Corporal mentioned. He fumbled with an envelope, which he handed to the General. "I have one, too, but it's a bit different. I have no idea what it means, sir."

General Shepherd took the envelope and tore it open. Inside was a cellphone, which he tossed aside. It could be anything from a tracking device to a bomb. There was also a wallet, with a (civilian!) ID and a few hundred dollars in cash. In the back of the envelope was a letter, which he opened.

_Dear Lieutenant General Shepherd,_

_By act of ROB, you have been brought to an alternate universe. All your friends are gone. There is one way, and only one way to escape. Kill your adversaries._

_Your targets are:_

_Commander Jane Shepard_

_Colonel John Sheppard_

_Corporal Adrian Shephard_

_Director Jenny Shepard_

_Rob MacGuffin_

P.S. You lost 117 women along with those men. Don't you ever forget that.

"Sir," the Corporal called, breaking his superior out of his trance. "We should get moving, sir."

"You're right," the General agreed. "We'll try to find some friendlies or at least somewhere to bunker down until nightfall. By the way, what's your name, son?"

"Corporal Adrian Shephard, thirteen-thirty-seventh Hazardous Environment Combat Unit, sir!"


	3. The Chase

Unfortunately for Commander Shepard, the police seemed to have a different idea of justice than her. Staking out a drug deal two streets over, they caught the woman and threatened to throw her in jail. She could easily resist arrest, but figured that she would just explain her Spectre status instead of getting in more trouble. They took her gun, but thankfully none of the bits of her armor, not even her helmet when she removed it. They were too scared to handcuff her, at least.

By this time, Shepard was getting a little antsy. They passed by a lot of buildings- this was a major city. The buildings looked modern... modern circa the 20th century. The vehicles were all ground vehicles- there was not a single aircar in sight. In fact, everything looked archaic in nature, with _physical controls_. The two policemen didn't wear armor or any sort of recognizable uniform at all. The guns they carried were odd. They thought Shepard's armor and weapon were strange and didn't know what a Spectre was. It was like Tuchanka, except full of humans. Hopefully they were just idiots and she could talk to someone with a brain. She was tired, starting to get hungry, still had a headache and didn't want to fight any more than necessary.

NYPD... that seemed a bit familiar. Born and raised in the colonies, Shepard didn't know a lot about Earth. She'd been there several times, of course, most of those times on official business. She briefly remembered those letters used by someone or something on Earth. "Officer, is this Earth?" she asked. It didn't look like any of the places on Earth she had been to, but maybe it was some backwater slum.

The fat policeman driving laughed. "Of course it's Earth, miss," he said. "You're in the middle of the Big Apple."

"The what?" Shepard asked. Slang was never her strong point.

"New York city," the other man said. He turned to his partner. "Man, what's she been smoking?"

"Hallucinogens are usually taken, not smoked," the driver corrected. "We're gonna have to run some tests when we get back to the station."

"I can hear you," Shepard warned. She noticed that they were slowing down and pulling into what was probably the police station. _New York._ Wasn't that a major city, and not a backwater throwback to the pre-mass effect days?

"Lady, you're in enough trouble already, just sit down and shut the fuck up," the driver said. Shepard knew one thing. She was going to rip this guy a new one.

* * *

><p>Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was escorted into the station in handcuffs. He tried his best to ignore the raving lunatic spouting nonsense and the two officers trying to calm him down. The place was pretty busy, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. They had taken his tac vest, of course, but he was still wearing the BDUs. With the Atlantis patches.<p>

"Don't I get one phone call or something?" he asked.

"No, that's just in the movies," the officer replied.

"Pretty sure it isn't."

"Actually, he's right. It's constitutional," another cop called from the back of the room.

"Damn it," the officer muttered, probably to himself. Great. He'd probably call a lawyer. They were still in the entrance area, so the officer grabbed the nearest phone and roughly handed it to Sheppard. "Just don't call any more of your terrorist lunatic buddies, okay?"

Sheppard took the phone. "What's the number for the Pentagon?" he asked. Being stationed in another galaxy meant you didn't learn those things. The officer, thinking he was joking, gave him the number. Sheppard punched it in.

"Hi, I need to talk to General O'Neill," he said after waiting for the line to be picked up. The person on the other end laughed for at least half a minute and then hung up. What the hell?

"Sorry, looks like you just wasted your phone call," the officer said. "Probably should have called a lawyer." The thought briefly occurred to him that it might be a code of some sort. He would have to check that out. Nah, this guy was too stupid to do it.

They had no more time to chat, however, because at that moment a woman barged in the door, followed closely by two officers. She looked tough and angry, which if Ronon had taught him anything was _never_ a good combination. That wasn't what caught Sheppard's eye, though. She was covered from head to toe in some kind of armor plating, colored dark grey with a red stripe and N7 emblazoned on the chest. It looked like something Earth might come up with in another few decades. It wasn't brand new, either- it was adorned with dents, scratches and burn marks. She held a matching helmet in her hand.

"Alright," she began. "I have two simple questions. Where the hell am I, and why won't these idiots recognize my Spectre status?"

The policeman left Sheppard's side to help deal with the woman. "Ma'am, just calm down and we'll- whoa. What the hell is up with the outfit?"

"Everyone's been asking about that lately," the woman said, annoyed. "Now explain this to me. Where is this archaic excuse for a city?"

"Please calm down," the police chief said, coming out of his office. In addition to the suit and tie, he had a neatly trimmed mustache. "You're not in trouble, but we need to ask a few questions and we need to see some ID."

Sheppard had a very bad feeling in his gut. This woman might be from the future, and if she was, there was no telling what kind of damage she could do. He kept his mouth shut. They didn't know she was from the future yet. No sense jumping the gun.

The woman furrowed her eyebrows in frustration. She waved her left arm, and an orange hologram appeared around it. It showed her face, and some information. _Jane Shepard. Lieutenant Commander, Systems Alliance Navy. Spectre._ Wait, wasn't there a Commander Shepard on the letter? "See? Spectre. Now give me my gun back and let me go."

"I'm sorry, miss, but we've never heard of a 'spectre'," the chief said. He'd dealt with crazies before. Not one who made her own fake armor, though. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to hold you until your mental state is established," the chief said.

Shepard put her helmet back on. The police chief realized why a moment later. She grabbed the nearest policeman's gun and the nearest man, which happened to be Sheppard. She locked her arm around his neck. One officer reached for his gun, and Shepard immediately pointed her purloined weapon straight at his head. "Don't even think about it."

Sheppard was half-dragged out the door. He didn't have a gun, and wasn't sure if it would do anything against the woman's armor anyway. The woman smashed out the window of a police car with her fist and unlocked the door. "Passenger seat. In. You run, you die."

Seeing no choice, John got into the passenger seat. A few brave cops attempted to exit the building. Through sheer luck, Jane was able to fire the stolen pistol. The first pull of the trigger did nothing. She racked the slide, expecting to see a thermal clip pop out of the weapon. Figuring maybe it was empty, she flicked off the safety in the hopes that this particular weapon still had a heatsink. She fired four times before getting in the car. Though none of the cops were hit, they did start shooting back.

What John saw surprised the hell out of him. A few of the bullets hit the Commander- or almost did. A shimmering barrier flashed into existence and stopped the bullets before they could even touch her armor. More gunfire slammed into the hood and windshield.

"How do you drive this thing?" she asked.

Colonel Sheppard was trapped between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, the same cops that had arrested him were now shooting at him. On the other hand, he was in a car with a soldier from the future that would probably kill him if he tried to escape. A small part of his brain wished it had the Commander's armour a few months ago. An even smaller part wanted to be in bed with the Commander. "Keys are still in the ignition. Turn them clockwise until the engine turns over. The smaller pedal makes it go, the bigger one makes it stop. The wheel turns."

Jane started the car and revved the engine with no results. What the other Sheppard did at that moment almost got him shot. He reached over and slammed the gear shifter into the D position. Obviously there were no cars in the future, because this Jane Shepard was a terrible driver. She smashed the vehicle four times before managing to get out of the parking lot. All while being shot at.

"I'm really sorry about that," Jane said, half-sarcastically. "As soon as this is over, you can go back and get sent to whatever prison you were going to."

"Actually, I'm innocent," John replied. They were swerving wildly, with better-driven police cars giving chase. "See, I was on a starship in another galaxy heading into a black hole, then I woke up in New York."

"Uh huh. Sure." Jane slammed the vehicle around a corner, nearly smashing into another car. "Why is it that out of all the criminals I could take hostage, I took a crazy?"

"They think you're crazy, too." The man ducked instinctively as more bullets smashed into the back of the car. The cops were close. Too close.

"Look, I have no idea where I am," Commander Shepard replied. "I was about to die, piloting the exploding Normandy away from the escape pods after it was hit by some kind of subspace distortion. Next thing I know, I wake up in a back alley on a human world that's never heard of the mass effect."

"What year is it?" Sheppard asked immediately.

"2185. Everyone knows that," the Commander replied.

"It's not, though," he explained. "It's 2009. I don't think you're crazy. I think you're from the future."

There was a roadblock up ahead, with several police cars forming a line. As Jane wrenched the police car onto a side street, the cops opened fire. Bullets thudded into the car, the right-side windows shattered, and there was a scream of pain to her right. Her passenger was hit.

With his good hand, John grabbed the first aid kit. "Look, I think we've been brought here by someone... something."

"Like what?" Jane asked as she attempted to keep the car from crashing into the buildings lining the street.

Colonel Sheppard grimaced in pain as he attempted to bind the wound. "I don't know, but I woke up with a letter. It said I wasn't in my universe anymore, that everyone I knew was gone. Rob MacGuffin- obvious pseudonym. And it said..."

"It said what?" the Commander asked.

"It said I was supposed to kill you," Sheppard managed a laugh. "Did you get one?"

"No, but I might have left it in the alley," Shepard mused. "Well this is just great. I'm in a car- a fossil fuel burning car- with a man who's been shot and claims to be from an alternate reality, in 21st century New York, being chased by cops with my gun back at the station."

"Yeah, basically," Sheppard said.

"You know, that's the craziest thing I've ever been through, and I've been through some pretty crazy things," Shepard replied. "I can't think of anything that makes more sense right now, though. On a more practical note, anywhere we can lose them?"

There was a sign for "Comic-Con, next left" looming above them. "Yeah," John said. "Turn left."

"Comic-Con?" Jane asked, turning anyway. "What's that?"

"You'll find out soon enough, just drive," Sheppard said, wincing from a combination of his shoulder wound, bullet whizzing by, and the other Shepard's terrible driving.

* * *

><p>Corporal Shephard was getting antsy. Even for an Army guy, this general was crazy. He insisted that the Russians were invading, there was no such thing as Black Mesa and the year was 2016. Shephard was only a corporal, so he responded only with "Yes, sir."<p>

General Shepherd liked Marines. Out of the 30,000 men (and apparently 117 women) he had lost in the Middle East, around half of them were Marines. This one, however, was borderline psychotic. At least he had stopped spouting off about aliens and government conspiracies. Once they reached a command post, he would dump the Corporal and have him go through a psych exam.

Of course, the actual reality of the situation didn't match up to either soldier's interpretation. There were no aliens and no Russians. It was business as usual in New York. The two men quickly found themselves in the middle of a traffic jam.

"What the hell is going on?" General Shepherd asked nobody in particular.

"You might want to see this, sir," the Corporal said, pulling a newspaper out of a trashcan, which gained him a few quizzical looks from passersby. Emblazoned on the front of the paper was the date, May 2, 2011, as well as the headline, OSAMA BIN LADEN KILLED BY US FORCES.

General Shepherd took the paper and read it. "No, this is impossible!" He crumpled up the paper in a state of rage.

"Sir?"

"Look at it! I'm a soldier, not a scientist but even I know time travel is impossible. I've had my stars for years and I've never even heard of this guy."

Adrian Shephard was calmer. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

The superior officer considered it for a moment. "Fine."

"Within the last seventy-two hours, I've witnessed a dimensional rift, an alien invasion, some g-man with superpowers, and an alternate universe. It's not impossible, sir."

"What should we do about it?" The General was asking himself more than anyone. He sat down on the sidewalk. "Well, we have a new mission, Corporal."

"What would that be, sir?"

"Do what this ROB says and hope like hell he honours the deal. It's not a great plan, or even a good plan, but it's all I've got."

"You do realize what that plan entails, sir."

"I know, and it would be ignorant of me to assume you won't put up a fight. We'll deal with that when the time comes, Corporal. Right now, we have to find the others and eliminate them."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

><p>NCIS Director Shepard walked out of the building onto the street. The Empire State Building was visible in the distance. So, New York. Someone had been busy. The cell phone they gave her was no doubt booby-trapped or at least tapped, so she wandered down the street until she found a pay phone.<p>

The (redundant) wallet she had been provided with had only bills, so she rooted in her pockets for change, eventually finding a quarter and feeding it into the machine. Jenny dialled the number for NCIS instinctively. A man she had never heard before picked up.

"Navel Criminal Investigative Service."

"This is Director Shepard. I need to speak to Agent Gibbs."

The man on the other end was barely able to control his laughing. "Look, lady, I don't know who you think you are, but this is the REAL NCIS, not the fanservice line."

Shepard was in no mood for games. "Gibbs. Now." Her voice had real authority in it.

"Look, I can't do that for you for a very simple reason-"

"Look, damn it," Jenny cut him off. "I'm the Director, and I need to speak to Gibbs, now. Whoever you are, this is not a game."

The man on the other end was getting uncomfortable. He wasn't even an agent, just a cheap contractor hired to deal with the less important calls. "You're not real, you're not even-"

Director Shepard didn't wait for the man to finish. A stream of gunshots rang out, not so far away. She immediately dropped the phone, pulled out her gun and headed toward them.


	4. The Real Commander Shepard

Commander Shepard, through insane driving, had managed to get a decent lead on the police cars. She pulled into the parking lot and shut off the vehicle. There was a shotgun behind the front seats, which she grabbed, then quickly searched the front of the vehicle and found extra ammunition for both the pistol and shotgun. Thankfully, the pistol was magnetic enough to stay on her hip.

"Get out," she motioned with the shotgun, opening her own door. The bandage on John's shoulder didn't look good, and it was soaked with blood. She'd deal with it later.

"Don't I get a gun?" John asked, following Jane toward the building and the crowds gathered in front of it.

"No," Jane said flatly. "I don't trust you, and unless you represent less than thirty-five percent of the galaxy's population, you wouldn't be able to use it properly anyway."

"Hey, what are you doing?" the admissions man asked as Shepard and Sheppard stormed through the crowds. "Wait your turn. Hey, you can't go in without-"

"Get the hell out of my way!" Jane shouted, ignoring the man. Behind them, police cruisers were starting to pull into the parking lot. They pushed through the crowd into the building.

Inside were all manner of geeks, fans, collectors and exhibitioners, packed tightly into the too-small building. Even then, this "comic-con" was nothing compared to _the_ San Diego Comic-Con, a few thousand people compared to over a hundred thousand for the latter. Still, the amount of costumed weirdos and sheer mass of people was enough to blend into.

"Wow," someone said to Shepard, following her. "That armor's pretty, good, looks almost real. But the guns are such a cop-out!"

"It's not good looking, it's real," she replied, still half-dragging her injured companion. "And it's interesting you should say that about the guns, because I stole them from the- who is that?"

A small knot of people had gathered around a costumed group of individuals. An okay rendition of Commander Shepard, a man demonstrating a krogan mask and a really, really disproportionate quarian were showing off their stuff. Despite the fact that they were being chased by police, Jane was innately curious and headed toward them.

"Looks like you have fans," Colonel Sheppard said weakly.

"A hundred and fifty years before I was born?" She turned toward the fans. "Hey, you!"

"...and made a mold of that, which was awkward, then we fiberglassed it and- oh look, another Shepard," the fake Shepard said. "That's pretty good," she said to the newcomer. "It looks almost real. How did you do the helmet?"

"I didn't make it, I'm a soldier, not an engineer," Shepard said. There was a chorus of laughter. She addressed the crowd. "Now, would someone please tell me why I have fans a hundred and fifty years before I was born?"

The group laughed again, then turned dead silent when they realized she was totally serious. "You're serious, aren't you?" the false quarian said. Shepard assumed she was supposed to be Tali- the colours were about right. She didn't sound like Tali at all- or any quarian at all. "Either you're crazy, or you're the real Commander Shepard."

"Of course I'm the real Commander Shepard," Shepard snapped. "This guy- what's your name?- thinks I'm from the future."

"Sheppard."

"Yeah, what?"

"No, it's my name!" the man said. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard."

"He's that guy from Stargate," a man in the crowd said.

"What?" he said, startled.

"I get it," another person said. "Sheppard and Shepard. Pretty good."

"The shoulder wound looks fake, though," a woman in the crowd explained. "Look at the bandaging. It's clearly been done with two hands."

"But what if someone else did it, like the woman dressed as Commander Shepard?" The crowd quickly became alive with discussion.

Sheppard couldn't believe it. He was with a woman from the future, who apparently everyone knew about, he'd been shot and people were saying it was fake, and apparently the same people knew him too. There was no time to clear anything up, however. The police were closing in fast. He tugged on the Commander's arm. "We have to get out of here."

"Agreed," Shepard replied. No more than a second later, an enterprising young cop had a plain line of sight to the two fugitives. Inexperienced and careless, he opened fire, collateral damage be damned. She roughly pushed down the fake Commander and shielded her injured companion with her body, taking several hits in the process. To the stunned amazement of the crowd, shields flashed up and stopped the bullets. As the crowd began to clap and cheer, John pushed through the crowd with his good shoulder, Jane following behind.

The other, fake Commander Shepard shouted something out at the real one, but all she could make out was "mass effect". Shortly after, the fake Shepard was tackled to the ground and handcuffed. She felt a pang of guilt at that, but they would probably let her go after a few questions. And it would take a bit of heat off of them.

They had almost made it out an emergency exit on the other side when a short, bald man with glasses stopped them, holding out a picture of a Stargate with several people around it and the words "Stargate Atlantis" in the corner. "Sir," he said to Sheppard. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Who the hell are you talking to?" Sheppard replied. He tried to push past, but the man blocked his way.

"Nice try, but I know everything about you. I've followed you on Twitter, read your blog, and I've seen every episode of Atlantis, SG-1 and Universe."

"That's nice," Sheppard said, smiling, "Now what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, I already have autographs from all the other actors?"

"Actors?" Sheppard said quizzically. "You've got the wrong guy, I'm not an actor."

"I don't have time for this," Commander Shepard said, agitated. With no warning, she smashed the man across the face with the butt of her shotgun, shattering his nose and sending blood spraying in all directions.

Shepard was almost through the door when she thought of something. She reached in and pulled the fire alarm, setting off bells and sirens throughout the building. It would buy them some time, hopefully.

"Stop!" a redheaded woman shouted. Her gun was raised. "Federal agents!"

The obvious thing to do would be to use John as a human shield. Jane considered it for a moment and dismissed the idea. Hostages only worked if you cared about them. Instead, she moved in front and brought up her shotgun. "Don't even think about it."

The federal agent opened fire, hitting Shepard several times before a shotgun blast sent her reeling to the ground. "Come on, let's move," she said, motioning away from the building. The crowds were starting to swarm out of the building, some of the people panicking.

"Was that really necessary?" John asked.

"Yes," Jane replied. "I don't like shooting cops any more than you do, but it was necessary. I tried to hit her legs. She'll live... probably."

* * *

><p>"So, where do we go from here?" John asked, leaning against a building. They were ahead of most of the evacuees, and quickly escaped the vicinity of the building. Shock and blood loss were starting to get to him, and he was slowing down both of them.<p>

"I don't know, Colonel-"

"Call me John."

"Fine, you can call me Jane. It's your time period, you tell me."

"We need new clothes. You're from the future and I'm part of a program that's not supposed to exist. We need a place to hide out, somewhere to stay until the heat dies down."

"Anywhere we can get those around here?" Jane asked.

John looked around. He pointed to a squat grey building a few blocks down the street. "Thrift store, we can buy clothes there. We should probably go a little further out to find a place to stay."

"All right, sounds like a plan."

* * *

><p>General Shepherd and his subordinate chose a secluded alley to plan in for the moment. Their gear was laid out in front of them to take inventory. Four hundred American dollars in twenties. Civilian ID, credit and bank cards in their names. Military ID, which was legitimate where they came from but would be taken as fake here. Two cheap wallets. Two Motorola cell phones. One combat knife. One 44 Magnum revolver, loaded, in a holster with twelve rounds of extra ammunition. M9 Beretta, in holster, two extra magazines and a partially full one in the weapon. One well-used MP5 Navy, with three partially full magazines and one empty one. Two mismatched radios that didn't work with each other. A map of the southern United States. Helmet and PCV on Corporal Shephard. Single gas mask, with expended filters.<p>

"We have weapons, sir," Shephard reported. "That's always a good thing."

"But we both stand out like sore thumbs," the General said. "We have four hundred dollars and an unknown amount of credit. We need new, less conspicuous clothing and a base of operations."

"I passed a mall on my way here, sir. We can probably get what we need there."

"All right. Did you see any hotels, motels or hostels?"

"No, sir, but I wasn't exactly looking."

"All right, we can ask at the mall." They started repacking their equipment. Shephard was about to grab his MP5 when the General stopped him. "No, Corporal, people are going to ask too many questions."

Corporal Shephard didn't like it, but knew the General was right. "Yes, sir." He hid it under a dumpster- hopefully nobody would find it.

"Move out. We have a mission to accomplish."


	5. Shopping

Director Shepard woke up slowly, with the world slowly fading into view. Fluorescent lights, white ceiling. Antiseptic smell. Slight prick in arm. Machine bleeping. Uncomfortable bed. Legs hurt like hell. Hospital.

"Doctor, she's waking up," a female voice- a nurse- said. Moments later, a man with glasses appeared in the room. Jenny turned to face him, which was painful, but not too painful. The doctor shined a light in the woman's eyes.

"Can you speak?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Jenny said weakly. How did she get here? She briefly remembered someone in an odd costume firing a shotgun, and waking up in a strange room. Not necessarily in that order. "What happened?"

"You were shot," the doctor stated. "Shotgun blast, most of the pellets hit your legs. You were lucky- it was medium-gauge and only a few pellets hit. We were able to remove them and repair most of the damage. However, you also sustained a head injury, which worried us more. Do you know who you are?"

"NCIS Director Jenny Shepard," she replied hoarsely.

The doctor blinked, but gave nothing away. "And do you remember anything about how you were injured?"

Shepard shut her eyes and thought about it for a moment. "I heard gunshots- I went to investigate. There was a woman with a shotgun and I told her to drop it. She had a hostage. I didn't chance it, I shot her. But she must have been wearing body armour under the costume, because she just shrugged it off. Then she shot me- I remember the impact and I remember falling. Then I woke up here."

"Ah, I see," the doctor acknowledged. "I'll be back in a moment, just ask the nurse if you need anything."

The Director sat still and tried to listen to the conversation in the hall. She caught a few snippets, and figured out that the doctor was talking to a policeman. She heard something about an "odd case" and an an "NCIS TV show". There wasn't time to dwell on it, however.

The doctor came back into the room with a uniformed police officer in tow, the nurse leaving after they entered. "I'm Sergeant Murray, NYPD," the cop introduced. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"All right, fine," Jenny said.

"You approached this armed woman, who later shot you. Why?" Murray asked, producing a tape recorder.

"I heard gunshots. I went to investigate," she replied.

"What happened after that?"

"I found a woman in some kind of costume sneaking out the back door. She had a shotgun and a hostage."

"They might not have been real weapons," Murray noted.

"I told her to drop the gun," Jenny explained. "She didn't, so I shot her. I must have hit her at least two, three times in the chest, but she didn't bat an eyelash. She shot back at me, must have hit me in the legs because I collapsed, hit my head and ended up here."

"I see. Whether this is a case of self-defence or not is for the courts to decide. But why did you investigate in the first place?"

"You do know I'm a federal agent, right?" she asked. The doctor and the policeman shared a look. "Director of NCIS, actually."

"Impersonating a federal agent is a federal offence," Murray said gravely. "Now-"

The doctor interrupted him. "This woman hit her head pretty hard, officer. It's possible that she actually believes she is director of NCIS."

"I AM director of NCIS," Shepard said impatiently.

"It happened in the movie Unknown, if you've ever seen it," the doctor explained. "The main character- played by Liam Neeson- believed he was the man he was covered as. Believe it or not, it can really happen. This woman may actually believe she is Director Shepard off of NCIS. Maybe she liked the character and chose to-"

This man was worse than DiNozzo! "Excuse me," Jenny interrupted. "I am not a TV character. I am director of NCIS."

"People didn't believe me before I hit my head," she added, remembering the attempt to call Gibbs. "I woke up in a strange room with an odd note and a bad headache. Speaking of that, do you still have the letter?"

"All your possessions are on the side table," the doctor said, pointing. "I'm not allowed to touch any of it, not sure about Sergeant Murray though."

"Possession of a handgun without a proper license is a state offence," the policeman continued. "We couldn't verify your license as authentic, but you could probably argue that one in court and win."

"I think she could get off with an insanity plea," the doctor said.

"I am not insane!" Director Shepard shouted, severely straining her throat. She shoved her NCIS ID right in the policeman's face. "See? NCIS Director Shepard!" Even as she did so, however, a shadow of a doubt crossed through her mind. What if she really was insane? What if she had missed part of her life, or was making things up? She remembered when Gibbs had gone into a coma and came out thinking it was ten years ago.

"We'll have to get a psychologist in here to evaluate your condition," the doctor said. He turned on the TV mounted on the wall. "In the meantime, I think you should watch this."

"Grab your gear," a picture-perfect rendition of Gibbs said. "We've got a dead marine." He sounded exactly like Gibbs, too. What seemed to be Ziva, Tony and McGee followed him out of an area identical to the NCIS bullpen, and then the titles flashed on-screen. After a long sequence showing all the characters, including an African-American man that looked like Assistant Director Vance, an American flag transitioned to the letters NCIS.

* * *

><p>Commander Shepard waited in an alley as Colonel Sheppard went to buy clothes. She briefly wondered if he would run off, then dismissed the idea. He was just as confused as she was, and also running from the law. In the past. Not his past, his future. Or something.<p>

John was surprisingly quick, and didn't give the Commander much time to think. He passed her a buff colored wool coat which went down to her knees- almost a trenchcoat, really. She immediately put it on, right over her armour.

"Did they ask about your arm?" Jane asked. Her companion had also bought a well-worn but quite large bag, which she stuffed the shotgun in. She removed her helmet, tossing her hair briefly and then shoving the helmet into the bag as well. The pistol stayed magnetically attached to her hip, concealed beneath her long coat.

John shrugged. "I said it was nothing, that I fell and hit it." He winced as he removed his shirt. The bandage was completely soaked in blood and it hurt a lot. "Hurts like hell, though. How bad does it look?"

Jane removed the bandage, immediately covering her gloves in sticky blood. "Pretty bad," she said, rebandaging the wound with part of his old shirt. "But we can't exactly go to a hospital."

"You think? We need to find a place to bunker down and lie low," John said. "It's a pretty sleazy area, but we should be able to find at least a motel or something."

"How much money do you have?" Jane asked. "I don't have any at all- at least, nothing that anyone in the twenty-first century would take."

John went through his pockets, finding his wallet and a few bills. He counted the money. "Two hundred and thirty dollars, plus some credit cards that they'll probably track us down with in a heartbeat."

"Physical money? I thought everyone used credit by the turn of this century?"

"Not everyone," Sheppard explained. "Most money is stored electronically, which can be spent directly or converted to cash."

"Makes sense. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, but they can track it. I wonder if there's an ATM around here?"

* * *

><p>As it happened, there was. They stopped by a Bank of America, where Sheppard went inside to withdraw money from an ATM. He found that there was a total of ten thousand dollars in his account. The account had a standard limit of $500, so he drew that much and lined up to withdraw more from a teller. It was risky, since someone would see his face, but less risky than going back several times. The Commander stayed outside, her gloved hands and armoured legs leaving her incredibly conspicuous.<p>

"Next!" the teller called, and Sheppard walked to the teller. He presented his bank card, careful not to show the PIN number printed on a small sheet behind. "I need to withdraw some money."

"How much, mister... Sheppard?" the teller looked up. She was young and attractive, with flowing blond hair. Her nametag stated her name as Sandy. "This is a joke, right?"

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

Sandy pinched herself. "Ohmygod! You're really him, aren't you! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Sheppard muttered, wincing at the squeal. "I'm who?"

"You're Colonel Sheppard from Stargate Atlantis!" Sandy squealed.

"Or some jackass trying to pull off a scam," the neighbouring teller, a slim man with glasses, said cynically.

"Shepard?" a woman poked her head out of the back room. "That character from that video game Dave is always talking about- mass something?"

"No, that would be Commander Jane Shepard, who's standing outside." John said jokingly, not realizing that he had gotten it right. "Now, I need to withdraw five thousand dollars-"

"Of course, sir," Sandy bobbed her head up and down. "Can I have your autograph?"

"I have to sign to get the money, don't I? Make a photocopy."

"Our system is electronic," the teller said sadly, pushing the tablet toward John. She produced a folded photograph of the Atlantis team. "Please sign this, I'll never ask for anything else!"

"Fine," Sheppard replied. "But I want my money first."

"Oh, of course," Sandy bobbed her head up and down crazily again. As they waited, she tried to stir up conversation. "So, did you really fly that jumper into-"

"Yes."

"And face off that Wraith singlehanded-"

"Yes."

"And you allied yourself with Todd to escape the-"

"Yes!" It was getting annoying. Thankfully, he did not have to entertain any more questions. The woman who mentioned Dave dropped a stack of bills on the counter, shooting Sandy an intense glare. Before she could fire off a word, Sheppard scrawled on Sandy's picture, stuffed the bills in his pockets and left the building. Nobody had noticed he had been shot. That was good.

* * *

><p>"So, how did it go?" Jane asked as they resumed their walk. It was close to noon, and she was starting to get a bit hungry. They would probably be all over the news soon, if they weren't already.<p>

"Don't ask," John spat. "Some crazy fan refused to let me go until I signed some picture of myself."

"Creepy," Jane said. "We need to get moving."

"Did I ever tell you I've been to alternate realities before?" Sheppard said after they had been walking for a while.

"You've been to alternate realities?" the Commander asked, surprised. "You're joking, right? I thought you said you were from twenty-first century Earth? We can't even do that in the post-mass effect world!"

"Actually, in my reality humans have had intergalactic travel since 2005."

There was a long pause. "How?"

"If my hunch is correct, you'll be able to find out in a much more entertaining way," John began. "But the gist of it is this. In the twenties we found a device called a Stargate which can open wormholes to other Stargates. You step in one side and come out on another planet. We weren't able to get it working until 1994, but soon after we were a major power in the galaxy. Built our first starship a while later. I was stationed on Atlantis, in the Pegasus galaxy."

"Atlantis?" Jane asked. "Not lost city of Atlantis Atlantis, right?"

"Actually, it is that Atlantis," John explained. "Atlantis was built by the Ancients, the same guys who built the Stargate. There was a catastrophic event, and they took it to Pegasus. Then there was a war with vampire aliens who suck the life out of you, and they sunk the city and returned. Oversimplified, I know, but the details aren't that important."

"And Earth discovered this," Jane said. "Damn, it must have been like the mass effect, except a hundred and fifty years earlier. Humanity reaching for the stars, the people going crazy, all the scientists like fat kids in a candy store-"

John cut her off. "Actually, it wasn't like that at all."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"We kept it secret. The thinking was that the people couldn't handle it. Even after two alien attacks, we were able to keep it under wraps. That's going to change, though. About a month ago- from my perspective- Earth was attacked by the Wraith- the vampire aliens. Nobody could have missed the detonation of that superhive."

"You kept it secret?" Jane was a bit disgusted, and very impressed. "People are smarter than that. They need to know." After a pause she added bitterly, "On the other hand, they might have just laughed at you."

"In the immortal words of Agent Kay- A person is smart. People are dumb, dangerous panicky animals and you know it."

"Men In Black? I like that movie, it's a classic. Remake is godawful, though. But you have a point," Shepard conceded. "At least your people can go about their daily lives without worrying about the imminent destruction of all organic life in the galaxy. Maybe there's a reason the Citadel Council is trying to cover it up."

"What is this whole mass effect thing you keep talking about?"

"In 2148, we found a cache of technology on Mars, left there by an ancient race called the Protheans. From that we discovered a means of manipulating mass using a previously unknown element- it's complicated and I don't know the science. A year later, we discovered the first mass relay buried in Charon. A mass relay basically shoots your ship lightyears at a time, instantly. A while later, we made first contact- there was a war and I won't bore you with the details. Eventually we settled in as a member of the galactic community, even getting someone on the Citadel Council. The Citadel is a big space station that's actually a mass relay to dark space."

"Who built the Citadel and the mass relays?" Sheppard asked. "The Protheans?"

Shepard shook her head. "And now we get to the genocidal machines part. Either the Reapers- those machines that want to wipe out all organic life- or someone before them built everything, then left it sitting around so our technology would develop along the lines they wanted it to. They did it to the Protheans. They almost did it to us."

"You stopped them?"

"There was one left in the galaxy that attacked the Citadel. We were able to fight it off, but the Reapers are still out there. And the Council is blaming it on the geth. The geth were nothing but pawns."

"The geth?" John asked. "Nevermind, you can tell me later. You know how I mentioned a hunch I had?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I think we- me, you, and the other three on the list- exist as fictional characters in this universe."

Jane looked at him. "That's insane and impossible."

"No, it's quite possible," John explained. "I had a discussion with Rodney- tell you later- about the whole thing after we came back from the other alternate reality. Everything that is possible and most things that aren't exist in an alternate universe. And I think we've ended up in one where we exist but we aren't real."

Jane thought about it for a moment. "That's pretty damn crazy, but it would explain a lot. I believe you, John."

"Really?" Sheppard asked.

"It makes sense. I have fans a hundred years before I was born. Some guy mistook you for the actor that plays you. And when you tried to make that call, it didn't go through because the person you were looking for doesn't exist. In this reality. Besides, crazier things have happened."

"Like what?" John asked.

Jane smiled. "Would you believe me if I told you I came back from the dead?"

* * *

><p>The Manhattan Mall was a brightly lit, very glassy building. It was packed with customers, and more time was spent moving through crowds and waiting than actually selecting what to buy. Their first stop was the JC Penney in the lower level. They went in wearing their somewhat shabby uniforms, turning a few heads on the way. They left wearing casual sportswear, brand new, with extra clothing mixed with their old clothing in several shopping bags. In addition to clothing, they purchased several other items, including watches, sunglasses, and non-military backpacks.<p>

General Shepherd examined the directory. "Well, we're not going to find weapons here for sure, and the only food is going to come from vending machines. But there's a Radio Shack upstairs, and we're going to need some intel."

"Intel from a Radio Shack, sir?" Corporal Shephard asked.

"Computers," the General explained. "You'd be surprised what you can find on the Internet."

"Yes, sir." They stopped at a vending machine and drained it completely of water bottles, then headed into the Radio Shack. The air conditioning chilled the air and only reinforced the high-technology feel of the store. They were not there to look, however. They were there to buy.

"Do you need any help there at all?" a rotund man with glasses asked as the two soldiers looked at laptops.

"Yes," General Shepherd answered. "I need a computer, portable, doesn't have to be fast but should be durable. Better make that two computers, networked. I need a mobile internet datalink as well. How much is that going to cost me?"

The salesman blinked at the odd terminology, then selected a rubber-encased laptop from the shelf. "Durabook fourteen-point-one inch ruggedized laptop. Costs about twelve hundred dollars, you could drop this sucker six feet and it won't break. In fact, it's actually mil-spec for toughness. Not a performance slouch, either, Core 2 Duo, two gigabytes of RAM and a two-fifty hard drive. Probably overkill unless you're working at a construction site, though."

"No, it looks good," Shepherd agreed. "One of those and something smaller. Do you have tablets?"

"Of course, are you looking at a Windows tablet or an Android one?"

"Android?" Shepherd asked quizzically. His subordinate shrugged. "A Windows one."

The salesman put the Durabook aside and grabbed a sleek black device. "Archos PC tablet. A bit outdated hardware wise, but it's got a nice screen and it's the only PC tablet we have."

"How much does that one cost?" Corporal Shephard asked.

"Just over five hundred."

"All right, one laptop and one tablet. The uplink and network?"

The salesman led them to the front of the store, where he opened a case and pulled out a small white box emblazoned with the T-mobile logo. "These are pretty new. It's a mobile hotspot, supports 3G and super fast 4G connections. It's free with a data plan. The data plans start at thirty bucks a month and go up to eighty-five. You're probably best off with the middle of the road plan at fifty dollars unless you download a lot."

General Shepherd folded his arms and quickly read the man's nametag. "Tell me... Mark, how good are you with computers?"

* * *

><p>They found a motel several blocks down the street. John was in quite a bit of pain and the shoulder would was slowing him down. "Motel with vacancy," he pointed out weakly.<p>

The motel was a two-storey affair of moderate size, but run-down and dirty. The railings were rusted, the siding coated in crud, and asphalt paving cracked and full of weeds. The weakly lit sign identified it as a generic "Ultra Seven". Directly beside it was a drugstore, across the street was a Chinese restaurant.

"Okay, I'll grab some supplies from the drugstore, you get the room," Jane ordered.

"I don't think that's going to work," John said, leaning against a wall. "Do you know what to buy?"

"Medi-gel and stimpacks?" Jane was only half-joking.

"We do this together," John insisted. "Drugstore first."

"This is your idea of a first aid aisle?" Jane Shepard asked, pushing a shopping cart down the aisle. "Well, at least this stuff is sterile. What do I grab?"

"Bandages, big ones," John Sheppard replied. "Gauze and antiseptic. Might as well grab a kit, too, while you're at it."

"Sure." Jane grabbed several bandages, a box of gauze pads, a bottle of antiseptic, and the largest first aid kit on the shelf. She tossed the items in their mostly empty shopping cart and pushed it into the next aisle. "So, what do people eat in the twenty-first century?"

"Lots of things," John said. Frozen and refrigerated goods lined one side of the aisle, a measly selection of canned, dried and junk food lined the other side. "Grab the canned spaghetti, all of it, the SPAM, and some soup, say two dozen cans. And some fruit. I don't want to die of scurvy."

Jane hefted one of the cans and looked it over, trying to find a certain piece of information. "Actual metallic can, you only see these in tourist shops now- then- whatever. Damn it, I don't know if we should buy this."

"Why not?" John asked. "Is the can dented?"

"No, it doesn't say if it's levo or dextro," Jane replied. "And dextro will kill you."

"Le- what? This stuff is all edible to humans, if that's what you mean."

"Right, no dextros on Earth." Jane kicked herself mentally for her mistake. She tossed cans of soup, stew, SPAM, spaghetti and fruit into the cart. "Anything else?"

Sheppard directed the clueless woman on what to grab until the cart was nearly full. A tray of bottled water sat below the basket, with two large bottles of pop above. Two boxes of waffles and a box of mini-pizzas sat on top of the water. There was a literal pile of cans along with a few TV dinners and packages of beef jerky. "Better hope we can get a room with a kitchenette," he commented as the Commander pushed the cart toward the checkout.

* * *

><p>"So-called 4G systems such as mobile WiMax and LTE have been around for years," Mark said from the front seat. "Of course they're not really 4G, so it's false advertising. Anyway, we should be coming up to my apartment right now."<p>

Shephard and Shepherd shared a look. They had been listening to this geek drone on about technology trivia for half an hour. He was annoying as hell, but Mark was an expert and had bought into their "government agents stopping terrorism" story. He said it was "awesome" and "cool" to be working with "spies". He had even let them stay in his apartment. It was better than nothing.

"Okay, we're here." Mark pulled into a parking spot. They were in a middle-wealth area on Manhattan, and the building was large, modern and clean. He popped the trunk open so two "spies" could retrieve their equipment.

In the trunk was the tablet, the laptop, wireless hotspot and an expensive scanner they decided to pick up at the last minute. The internet was useful, but being able to pick up police broadcasts and possibly enemy radio communications was even better.

Mark's apartment was a small one-bedroom affair, with a living room/kitchen ambiguously divided. The bathroom was small but serviceable. Although it was once a very nice apartment, its current state was a disaster. The walls were dirty and dented, clothes and other junk were strewn about the floor and every horizontal surface was covered in something. The living room contained a desk with a computer, a flat-panel television on a stand, a coffee table and a ripped sofa. There was a closet beside the bathroom and a balcony accessible via the living room.

"Make yourself at home," Mark said, retreating to the kitchen area. "There's spare bedding in the closet, three extra ports on the router and a half-empty bottle of Coke in the fridge. It's about lunchtime. You want some Top Ramen?"

"Sure, why the hell not," General Shepherd replied. "Adrian-" Damn, using first names was awkward! "-set up the scanner and the antenna. I'll see if I can get this laptop working. Let's see if we can get a lead on these bastards."


	6. Attack of the Sheps

"Well, it's a good thing this place was cheap," Sheppard remarked upon entering the hotel room.

"I assume that this place is a dump even by twenty-first century standards?" Commander Shepard got a nod from her companion. "It's like Omega, but even worse."

The room was filthy, stank of cigarettes and other bad things, and the bedding was sloppily thrown on. The paint was peeling and the bathroom fixtures all leaked. At least it had a (dirty) kitchenette and two (damaged) beds. Downstairs, the man behind the counter thought they were a couple, and wouldn't shut up about it. She almost shoved a gun in his face, then relented when she realized it would make a decent cover.

Jane hung up her coat and dropped her collection of bags on the floor. Then she tore the blankets off one of the beds and put a towel down on top. "Lie down."

"Why?" John asked.

"To deal with the bullet in your shoulder," Jane explained, unpacking bandages, the first aid kit, and a bottle of vodka she had purchased in the liquor store downstairs.

"Do you know anything at all about removing bullets?" John said, wincing as he laid down on top of the towel.

"Not with technology from a hundred and fifty years ago, no," Jane replied, toying with a set of hemostats. "Which is why you're going to guide me through it."

"How is that supposed to work?" John asked. "Once you start pulling, all I'm going to be able to do is scream and maybe pass out."

"Try not to, I might screw up after that." She passed John the bottle of vodka. "I don't know if this actually works or if it only works in the movies. But you can at least try it."

John sure as hell wasn't going through hotel room surgery sober. He downed a mouthful of the clear liquid, cringing as it stung his mouth and throat. "Okay. You're going to need hemostats, antiseptic, and a lot of bandages. And gauze."

"Hemostats? These little things?" Jane asked. "It's like the damn Middle Ages," she said, grabbing and finding the requisite items.

"Take off your gloves," John told her.

"Sorry, they don't come off, but I'll wash them if it makes you happy."

"Use soap," John said as she retreated to the bathroom.

"What the hell?" Jane asked, poking her head out the door. "There's no water coming out!"

"Turn the taps."

"Right. No motion sensor." John heard the sound of running water, then Jane emerged, wiping her gloved hands on a towel. She came over and gently removed the bandage on Sheppard's wound, tossing it into the trash.

"Now the antiseptic?" she asked.

"Yes, the- AAAAAAH!" John screamed as Jane poured the rubbing alcohol all over his shoulder. "That hurts," he squeaked. "A lot. Now I'm probably going to be in a lot of pain when you pull the bullet out, so just go ahead and bandage it when you're done," he explained through gritted teeth.

"All right," Jane replied. She retrieved the hemostats and held the wound open with her left hand. Ignoring her friend's screams and groans of pain, she probed gently with the instrument. Finally, she found the bullet and extracted it. Just for good measure, she poured more antiseptic on the area and wiped it with gauze before bandaging the wound.

"All done," she said softly. "How do you feel?"

"Worse than before," John managed. "I'm not sure if this was a good idea."

"Like you said, we can't exactly go to a hospital," Jane replied. She offered a drink and took a shot herself. She had just got it down when there was a knock at the door. "I'll get it."

Jane quickly threw on the wool coat, cursing as blood from her hands smeared on the fabric. "Hey! Is everything alright? I heard screaming!" a male voice called from the other side of the door.

Shepard opened it, careful to hide her bloody, gloved hands. The desk clerk and possible owner stood in front of her. "No, everything's fine," Jane said, trying to sound polite and not very smart. "Thanks for asking."

"Whoa, when you two get it on you really get it on," he remarked crudely. Jane glared at him. "Sorry, none of my business. Just thought I would check up. Last time there was screaming, it turned out they were raping some poor girl. She was a pretty little thing and I felt really bad about it. Totally defenceless and delicate. Kind of like you."

Commander Shepard's voice took on a hard, commanding edge. "Leave. Now."

Her attitude must have scared the man. "All right, just being a good samaritan," he muttered, skittering away.

* * *

><p>"Well, this is interesting," Mark said to the two soldiers, typing on his computer. The living room was now a mess, with Shepard's laptop set up, the scanner in the corner with the antenna poking out the window and wires everywhere. Mark's computer was connected to his decently sized flat panel TV. A picture of a redheaded woman appeared on the TV, along with several rows of information. "Huh. Jane Shepard. Even looks like the Commander- nah, it can't be."<p>

"What was that you're saying?" Adrian asked.

"Oh, Commander Shepard, from Mass Effect," Mark answered, confusing the others. "Nevermind, it's a videogame. Now that I think of it, though, Mike looks kind of like General Shepherd."

General Shepherd had hastily chosen 'Mike' as his alias, a spur of the moment thing. "I-" he began, but hastily reformulated his response. "-look like who?"

"General Shepherd- he's the bad guy from Modern Warfare 2," Mark explained. "Another video game. Jeez, you two don't get out much, do you? Adrian doesn't look like much of anyone, though. I was half expecting him to look like Ding Chavez- nevermind."

"Forget it. Who did you say she was?" 'Mike' asked.

"Jane Shepard. Arrested for beating up some hobos, then did some weird shit before taking a hostage and leaving the police station," Mark replied. He brought up a news report. "Huh, I guess I was sort of right. It was a cosplayer pretending to be Commander Shepard. She was later arrested at the pathetic excuse for a comic-con an hour ago. And you'll never believe who she took hostage."

"Who?" Shephard and Shepherd asked at the same time.

"Joe Flanigan, the guy who plays Colonel Sheppard on Stargate Atlantis." Mark brought up another picture. "I wonder if was a coincidence? Anyway, the Flan seems to have been arrested for possesion of illegal weapons and threatening a police officer. Huh, that's weird."

"What's weird?" Adrian asked.

"Joe couldn't have been there. He was in LA until eight this morning." Mark accessed the airport database. "Didn't even arrive in New York until five minutes after our two Sheps left the station. They got the wrong guy."

"So who was it?" General Shepherd asked, folding his arms.

"Dunno. Some rabid fan probably. Makes you wonder if it's coincidence or not."

"All right, what about the third one? Jenny Shepard?" the General asked.

"Like NCIS Jenny Shepard?" Mark asked. His fingers flew over the expensive Razer gaming keyboard. A hospital admittance card appeared on the TV. "Someone claiming to be Jenny Shepard arrived in New York Downtown Hospital just this morning. Shot by the 'commander'- it's like a fucking Shepard conspiracy! She does look a lot like the Director, too. It seems that she hit her head and now actually believes she is the Director."

"Hmm," Shepherd mumbled. "Let's assume that these... Sheps are the real thing, or at least are still using the same aliases. Can you locate John or Jane?"

"Well, they need a place to stay, and you don't go home after a crime. Guess it's time to try out my new hotel bot." Mark talked like an excited schoolboy as he typed.

"A hotel bot?" General Shepherd asked.

"It automatically hacks into hotel, motel, hostel and other lodging databases and filters for specific names. I wrote it myself one night when I was drunk and bored. Hold on, looks like we have a hit."

A picture of a sleazy-looking motel appeared on the flat panel. "The Ultra Seven motel- cheap knockoff of a Super 8, I guess. Both John and Jane seem to be staying here. No reservation, they just showed up. Heh, I bet the guy at the front desk thought they were a couple. Never seen that pairing before, but methinks it would be pretty good."

"Can you get me an address and room number?" Shepherd asked.

"Yep. They're staying in the same room." There was a faint humming noise, then a pile of papers shifted and a new one forced its way through.

Shepherd took it. "We'll be back soon," he said to Mark. "Thanks for the intel."

"No problem," Mark replied, closing a bunch of windows and launching Starcraft 2.

* * *

><p>Colonel John Sheppard couldn't help but stare as Commander Jane Shepard started stripping down right in front of him. Her armour was modular and came off in distinct sections. First off was the boots, then the leg armour. All the plates unclipped to reveal a form-fitting black undersuit, which Jane started to remove when she noticed that John was staring.<p>

"What?" she asked. "Never seen a girl strip before? Or are you just curious about my armour?"

"Both," John admitted sheepishly. The waste collection ports on her underwear kind of killed the mood, however. "I thought you would want some more privacy."

"Then stop staring at me," Jane snapped, pulling on a pair of jeans. "I thought you were military?"

"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?" John asked. "That I don't see many women in skimpy outfits?"

"No, actually, that you would see a lot stark naked." Jane snapped her fingers. "Right. You still segregate genders, don't you?"

"You don't?" Sheppard asked, surprised.

"No," the Commander replied as she pulled a t-shirt over her head. "Well, we did on the Normandy SR-2, but it's technically civilian. In the military, especially in infantry, there's basically no such thing as privacy."

"I suppose," John conceded. "The Air Force is pretty open, but the Army and Marines don't let women be infantry or drive tanks. They're still arguing about it. But I guess it worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"Ash would scream bloody murder if she was here," Jane muttered, snapping a small silver band onto her wrist. "Hell, I'm tempted to. But we've got more pressing concerns."

"Like what?" John asked, shifting in the bed.

"There were three other people on that list you had, not counting me," Jane explained. "Even if I thought it would send me back, I would never kill you."

John smirked. "I'm flattered."

"Of course, the others might have different ideas. We need to learn more about them. If they're works of fiction like you and me in this universe, then we should be able to look them up on the- you don't have an extranet in 2011."

"The what?" John Sheppard asked. "Big database thing with lots of people contributing? Totally dynamic and you can find anything on it?"

"Yeah, basically." Jane Shepard replied. "You read a lot of sci-fi?"

"No, we actually have something like that," John explained. "It's called the internet, and it's revolutionized the way information flows. We don't get it in Pegasus, though."

"How do you access this internet?" Jane asked.

"You need a computer. We don't have a computer," John said. "We have a TV, though."

"A what?" Jane asked, confused.

John grabbed the remote and the black box sprung to life, displaying a news report.

"It's like the vids, but really crappy," Jane observed.

_...both subjects have been released. The NYPD has promised a full formal apology for wrongfully arresting the two victims. Both were accused of being involved in the comic-con shooting, in addition to illegal weapon charges for one and kidnapping for the other._

_The real criminals are going by the names of two fictional characters, which they are imitating._

"I can't believe they cancelled it!" John nearly shouted at the television.

_The woman is going by the alias of Jane Shepard, the player character from the video game Mass Effect, which was previously involved in a sex scene controversy. The fake Shepard is another fan and was wearing a homemade costume at the time of her arrest. However, she has a different theory as to who the perpetrator is._

"_You're chasing the real Commander Shepard. I talked to her for less than a minute and knew in an instant that this was not another cosplayer. You're not going to catch her."_

_She is currently in the process of having her mental state examined. In other news..._

"Replay that," Jane ordered.

"I can't," John shrugged, wincing at the pain. "TV doesn't work that way."

"Wow, that's really bad," Jane spat. "I never thought what we had was convenient until now. Is the internet better?"

"Of course, you can find anything on the internet," Sheppard replied.

"Right. I'll be back soon," Shepard grabbed a small box and disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>A significant portion of car thieves steal cars to facilitate other crimes. This case was no different. Although it wasn't exactly theft, more of an non-concentual borrowing. General Shepherd unlocked Mark's car with the keys he took from the apartment and used the same keys to start it. Adrian got in the back.<p>

They rode in silence. Soon, Shepherd began to doubt himself. What if it was all some elaborate Russian plot? Did the whole Russian thing even happen, or was it all a dream? Was this a dream? Was it an induced dream or a natural one? Who was Rob and what did he have to do with it? Shepherd pushed the thoughts away. He had a mission and he was damn well going to accomplish it.

Corporal Adrian Shephard had a different perspective. A lot of strange shit had gone down, and he was numb to it. At least he was in a relatively peaceful world now. Besides, he had orders, even if they were from a crazy Army general.

"There," he suddenly stated, breaking the General out of his thoughts. He pulled over and stopped the car.

Corporal Shephard jumped out of the car and ran into the alleyway. He peered under the dumpster and found what he was looking for immediately. Shephard grabbed the MP5 and its spare magazines and took them with him back to the car.

"That'll do for now," the General commented. "But we're going to need more weapons and more ammo soon."

* * *

><p>When Commander Shepard stepped out of the bathroom, she was transformed. Her previously red hair was turned jet black. "What do you think?"<p>

"I like it," John said. "It actually looks pretty good on you."

"Think anyone will recognize me?" she asked, heading toward the door. Her stolen pistol was tucked into her belt.

"Probably not. Not many people know what you look like, anyway." John shrugged. "Where are you going?"

"To get a computer," Jane replied simply.

"Not a bad idea," John called. "but the cops will shoot you if you carry a weapon like that."

"Right." Jane grabbed her long wool coat and threw it on. "Better?"

"I guess. Isn't that a bit warm?"

"I've been to Tuchanka. I think I can handle it." The last thing Shepard grabbed was Sheppard's wallet.

"Hey! That's my wallet!" he called, but was ignored.

* * *

><p>"Turn left in five hundred metres," the GPS bleeped helpfully.<p>

"I know where to turn, damnit!" Shepherd shouted at the machine.

"Sir, I think you should just follow the instructions," Corporal Shephard said from the back. "With all due respect, we wouldn't be lost if you hadn't tried that shortcut."

"Fine. We'll try it your way," Shepherd replied, jerking the car around the corner to the left.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me," Commander Shepard said to the Asian man at the counter. The computer store was empty save for one teenager staring at parts and muttering something about "GTX 560 in SLI". A few laptops and assembled desktops were mixed into the mishmash of parts. It all looked like the same archaic junk to Shepard. "I'm looking for a computer."<p>

"Yes, yes," the man said in barely understandable English. "This is computer store, what you want?"

"I'm looking for something portable that can access the..." Shepard searched for the word. "...internet."

"Oh yes, netbook, new model very good. Run AMD, can have for four hundred dollar." The man pulled a box from under the counter. A picture of a laptop and the words "Eee PC" were emblazoned against a black background.

"Uhh, sounds good." Jane fumbled with John's wallet. She really didn't have a clue about computers, but did have the lingering suspicion that this guy didn't either. She pulled out a wad of bills, then counted them off until the total value was four hundred dollars. "That good?"

"Cash? Cash good, easy do. You want service plan?"

"No, thank you." She didn't trust the man and she knew exactly how useful a service plan was.

"You sure? If something go wrong-"

"It's okay, I know a quarian." That Tali was in another universe was not pertinent to the discussion.

"Know a what? Okay, no service plan, but extend warranty?"

"No, I'll pass on that too." Those had way too much fine print for Shepard's liking.

"Okay, your loss," the Asian said, stuffing the bills into the cash register and handing Jane the computer. "Good luck with computer."

* * *

><p>"Well, I guess you were right," General Shepherd admitted as he pulled into the hotel's parking lot. "Room 97. Grab your weapon, we're going in. Try to kill them, but if not I've got plan B figured out."<p>

Corporal Shephard grabbed his MP5, slung it and dramatically slammed in a magazine. He slammed the charging handle unnecessarily hard as he exited the vehicle.

One woman immediately saw Adrian's gun and screamed. Soon, the entire street was panicking, people running in all directions. The duo confidently walked into the hotel with weapons drawn. The hotel owner cowered behind the counter as they passed.

"Damn it!" Jane yelled. She dropped the laptop at the counter. "Hold this for me."

Jane drew the gun from under her jacket, racked the slide and disengaged the safety. It required more thought than she would have liked. She moved quickly, entering the motel only moments after the armed men. One of them, an older man with a revolver, saw her and fired. Jane dived behind the front desk as bullets splintered the wood. She leaned out and fired back, all four rounds missing and hitting the wall. The muted sound of automatic weapons fire erupted from the upper floor.

She dashed up the stairs with her gun drawn. A sudden impact sent the pistol flying, and another slammed into her chest. The older man dropped his revolver and sent another fist flying toward her face. Jane blocked it with her other hand and brought her knee into the man's crotch. She grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. He fought back, punching brutally at Shepard's abdomen. If she was a normal human, she would be on the ground with several broken ribs. She wasn't, however, and knocked out the larger man with a punch to the face, breaking his nose and sending blood splattering everywhere.

Commander Shepard ran down the hallway, stopping and diving into an open room as bullets peppered the wall behind her. The other man stood there with a submachine gun at his hip. Shepard could hear him reloading, and she blind-fired around the corner only to have it lock on an empty magazine. She fumbled with the weapon, trying to remember how to reload it. Jane had managed to get the new magazine in when the wall near the man exploded, ripped to pieces by a shotgun blast. Rattled by the close call, the man slung his own weapon and ran, firing down the hallway and into the hotel room. Shepard leaned out and shot back at him, firing five rounds and scoring no hits. Police sirens rang in the distance.

Colonel John Sheppard nearly shot Jane as she entered the room. He put down the shotgun and stood up. "What the hell just happened?"

"I think two of the other guys tried to kill us," Jane replied, taking off her coat. "We need to get moving. Start packing our stuff up."

"What are you doing?" John asked as she began to take off her clothes.

"Putting on my armour. It's kind of hard to carry."

* * *

><p>"That bitch broke my nose!" General Shepard fumed. He got in the passenger seat beside Adrian, holding his nose with blood oozing from between his fingers. "Go, just go!"<p>

"Yes, sir." The Corporal replied. He floored the accelerator and the car sped off. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what was plan B?"

"Ever seen a house fire, Corporal?"

"Ah, I get it, sir." Adrian cringed a bit as a police car sped by inches away from their vehicle. "Where are we going?"

"Back to Mark's place. It is his car, after all."

* * *

><p>Within two minutes, Commander Shepard was back in her armour, complete with helmet. She slung her shotgun and clipped on her pistol, then threw the overly large coat over top.<p>

John paused and took a few sniffs. "You smell that?"

Jane pointed to her helmet. "I can't smell _anything_."

"Smells like gas. We have to get out of here."

"Gas? As in fossil fuel petroleum product gas?" Shepard asked.

Two rooms over, a candle slowly burned. It sat in the middle of a milk carton full of flammable gasoline. The flame kissed the edge of the fuel and ignited the vapours, the liquid and milk carton coming soon after. Soon the entire gas-soaked room was ablaze and the fire was spreading.

"Fire!" Jane hollared as smoke began pouring into the room. "One of those assholes set the place on fire, just in case."

John touched the door and quickly drew his hand away. "Damn it!" he yelled, coughing. "That's no good. Guess we're going to have to jump out the window."

"I guess so," Jane replied, and slung him over her left shoulder. With her other hand, she drew her pistol and shot out the window.

"Isn't this a little backwards?" John asked. "I mean, isn't the guy supposed to carry the girl to safety?"

"Your legs will shatter. Mine won't." Jane took a bit of a run up to the window and leaped out. Behind them, the door burned through and fresh oxygen reached the flames. In a classic backdraft, the fire rapidly exploded outwards, fireball erupting from the window. The blast wave punched Shepard in the back as the ground came up to meet her. Her armour absorbed some of the impact. The rest she felt, but it failed to break her metal-reinforced bones.

Jane Shepard removed her helmet, adjusted her coat and strolled confidently across the street. John followed close behind. He was impressed by Jane's bravado, but would never admit that. "Where are we going?"

"To pick up that computer."

John rolled his eyes. "After that."

"Another hotel, I guess. Maybe we can get some fake IDs or something. It's your century, John."

"You know, you seem awfully calm considering you just jumped out of a window of a burning building."

Jane flashed him a brief smile. "Nah, I do this all the time."

* * *

><p>The doctor walked in slowly and nervously. He sat down beside Jenny and faced her, avoiding her eyes.<p>

"I'm not sure how to tell you this," he began, forcing out every word. "When we did the MRI of your brain, we found something. A tumour."

The doctor quickly continued. "We'll need to run some more tests, but it looks pretty bad. It's definitely cancerous. We can try to treat it, but there's not a lot we can do. By my estimates, you have just under a year to live, and that's if we begin the treatment regimen now. I'll-"

Director Shepard (was she really director?) cut him off. "I know. I was diagnosed months ago. I know what's in store for me."

"Well then," the doctor said even more awkwardly. "There's one more thing. Brain tumours sometimes cause hallucinations and insanity in addition to the standard symptoms of pain and degrading mental function. It's possible this has something to do with your... other condition. On the other hand, it could be quite the opposite."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, the fictional Jenny Shepard also had brain cancer. Almost exactly the same form and in almost exactly the same location. It's actually kind of interesting why they did it-"

"I don't care about your obsession," Jenny snapped. "When can I get out of here?"

"Ideally we would keep you here for treatment, but knowing you- or who you think you are- I doubt you're going to go for that. But please stay for a few more days so I can run some more tests and prescribe a few drugs. You do have some bruises and a concussion in addition to the tumour."

"All right," Jenny lied.

"Well, that was unexpected," the doctor muttered as he left the room.

NCIS Director Jenny Shepard picked up the letter on the side table. The posturing from this "Rob" guy she wasn't interested in. She read off the list. All Shepards or derivatives. There might have been some significance to it, maybe not. Hopefully one of them would know more.

Commander Jane Shepard. That would make her Navy, and a good place to start. As quietly as possible, Jenny began unhooking her IV and removing the monitoring instruments.


	7. Pizza and Revelations

There were several flaws in Jenny Shepard's plan. The first was that she had no idea what Commander Shepard looked like. The second was that she had no idea where Commander Shepard was. The third was that she didn't have a car.

The third problem was easy enough to fix. Some people were amazingly stupid. Jenny wandered the parking lot until she found a vehicle that was unlocked. It was an old Hyundai, more rust than silver, but it would do. Jenny snapped on a pair of latex gloves she had taken from the hospital, more for fingerprints than because the car was disgusting. A quick search revealed that the owner kept a spare key, as well as several other unmentionable things, under the seat. She used it to start the car and drove off.

Director Shepard subconsciously felt her hip. The gun was still there- thankfully they hadn't confiscated it. She flipped on the radio, hoping to hear some news. She flipped through the channels as she pulled onto a highway. Endless rock- nope. Les musiques francais, how did that even make it to New York? Classical music? Relaxing, but no. Finally she found a news station.

_Causes of a recent fire at the Ultra Seven in Manhattan remain unknown, though arson is suspected. At-large fugitives John Sheppard and Jane Shepard may be connected, as well as a third man. The third man is described as tall and tough with grey hair and a moustache. Sheppard and Shepard were previously implicated in the Comic-Con shooting. In other news..._

Damn, she had really been out of the loop! The same Commander Shepard might have been the one that shot her! Well, it might have been a misunderstanding. One that a liberal application of bullets to the head could fix.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing?" John shouted at Jane.<p>

"Driving, what does it look like I'm doing?" Jane replied. She jerked the wheel, narrowly missing a semi headed right toward them.

"You're driving eighty miles an hour over the speed limit, in the wrong lane!" With his good arm, John held on for dear life.

"Well, sorry, but where I come from driving laws are a little different!" Jane said back. She took her foot off the accelerator and slammed the brakes, slamming them forward against their seatbelts.

"You know what? Bad arm or not, I'm driving." John opened the door and got out.

"All right, fine," Jane sat down in the passenger seat. "The closest thing to one of these I've driven is the Mako."

"Mako?" John asked. He pulled the car into a smooth U-turn. They would have to turn around somewhere at the other end of the bridge.

"It's a rover APC sort of thing," Jane explained, visibly relaxing. "It had really, really terrible handling. Thankfully the piece of junk was destroyed when we took it through the Conduit."

"Conduit. That's the backdoor mass relay thing, right?"

"You got it. Where were we going, again?"

"Well, we _were_ headed off of to Manhattan, but I guess it's back to the mainland now."

Jane leaned forward and watched as a car passed by them. "Follow that car," she ordered.

"Why?" John asked, but moved behind the rusted Hyundai anyway.

"I recognize her," Jane replied. "In fact, I shot her."

"You recognize her? You only got a glimpse of her face!"

"A glimpse is all I need. If I'm wrong, you can slap me."

"I don't hit girls," John joked.

"Really? You should. It's incredibly satisfying."

* * *

><p>Director Shepard got the feeling she was being followed. Looking behind her, she saw the green Ford Focus again. <em>X64-L1J. Definitely the same vehicle.<em> She had no idea who was following her. Maybe it was Rob. Maybe one of the other Shepards. Eyeing a parking spot, Jenny suddenly braked and pulled in. The other vehicle shot past and rounded the corner.

The smell of fresh pizza wafted into the vehicle. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had eaten nothing but hospital food for the last few days. What the hell, maybe it would throw her pursuers off. Jenny slid onto the passenger seat, opened the door and exited the vehicle.

The scent of cheese, tomatoes and herbs blasted her in the face as she opened the door. The pizza shop was small, having only a bar and a few tables to sit at, and a large brick oven dominated the far wall. It was empty save for two customers sharing a pizza and a rotund man in chef's whites behind the counter. He had a stereotypical Italian moustache and spoke with the same accent. The decor was old-fashioned, but worked well and set a classical Italian tone.

Jenny ordered a small cheese pizza and waited at the bar, more for her possible enemies than for the food. Not for the first time that day, she fingered the pistol concealed under her jacket. Soon enough, a man with messy brown hair and growing stubble showed up. He wore jeans, a leather jacket and what appeared to be... combat boots? A bit shabby and a bit strange, but not too odd.

The woman that followed was another story. Her hair was black, with tinges of red mixed in, possibly a botched dye job. It wasn't very long, barely reaching her neck. The woman wore a buff-coloured, dirty and stained wool coat, long enough to cover her legs. Or rather, almost cover her legs. The remaining part that showed looked almost like armour plating or an odd prosthetic. She moved fine- with authority and confidence, actually- so Jenny ruled out the latter. The black-haired woman also wore gloves and had some kind of stiff collar showing underneath her coat. She carried a large bag, which looked heavy but didn't impede her at all.

"You've only had pizza three times in your whole life?" the man asked as he walked in. He sounded genuinely shocked. The man didn't talk particularly loudly, but loud enough for Shepard's trained ear to hear.

"I grew up on a remote colony," she replied. Colony?

"Remember what I said about-"

"Right, sorry. Anyway, I was with the Navy after that, and then went on all those grand big adventures." Okay, that was pretty weird.

"So, what do you want?"

"I don't know, I guess I'll have what you're having. Make that for two, we make a cute and inconspicuous couple."

Jenny couldn't make out the next line, but she thought she heard something about "cyborg mecha-Cthulu killer" and "program that doesn't exist". The man ordered, then they took seats at the bar, right beside Jenny.

"Nice weather, huh," the woman said. The one who had shot Jenny had red hair- but she could have dyed it. Outside, it was overcast and dreary.

The man whispered something Jenny couldn't make out into the woman's ear. She recognized him- this was definitely John Sheppard. If only she still had the power to arrest- no, that wouldn't do at all. These people might know something useful. Even if they didn't, there was no way she could take both.

"Nevermind, it's not nice weather," the woman- probably Jane- corrected. "I'm Jane and this is John. It's nice to meet you."

Pseudonyms? Possibly. The whole thing was an obvious setup, but there wasn't much she could do about it. The woman was probably concealing a gun under her coat and might have another in the bag she carried. The man could probably knock her flat, especially if he really was a Colonel. Jenny wasn't sure if that was true. He didn't act like a Colonel, but there were odd ones. "Jenny."

"Jenny Shepard?" Jane asked. "Director of NCIS. Diagnosed with a brain tumour. Determined to hunt down La Grenouille. Possible love interest of-"

"I get it," Jenny replied sharply but carefully. "What do you want?"

"That depends," John asked. "What do you want?"

She leaned back to allow the chef to serve her pizza. It looked delightful, although after hospital food, anything would. "Well, I would like to know how you know things that are both classified and I was very careful to cover up."

The other two shared a look, the man- John- speaking up. "Well, a quick trip to the internet would give you the same information."

"You'd be surprised how useful a... what did you call that thing?" Jane asked her companion.

"iPhone," John explained. "You're thinking of an iPhone. In combination with a netbook, of course."

"And why would that information just be out there on the internet?" Jenny asked. The others seemed to be in the same situation she was in.

"Well, I don't know how to put it, but-"

"We're works of fiction in this world, universe, whatever it is," Jenny finished. "I know."

"You know?" John shrugged. "Well, that's a start at least. And if you know that, you should know that we're supposed to kill you."

"You almost did," Jenny remarked icily.

"Sorry about that," Jane replied. "You pointed a gun at me. I tend to shoot people who do that."

"You're Commander Shepard," Jenny continued. "Navy?"

She nodded. "Systems Alliance Navy, yeah. It won't exist for another hundred and fifty years- if ever."

Jenny was a bit disappointed, but it would explain a lot. "And Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard- Army or Air Force?" They paused as the man served the "couple" their pizza.

"United States Air Force," Sheppard replied. Jane sniffed the food and experimentally nibbled a slice. She did not take off her gloves to eat, which seemed a bit odd to Jenny.

"And the other two on the list?" Director Shepard finally asked.

"Are the problem," the Commander explained. "They've banded together into sort of a makeshift alliance. It sort of makes sense- one greatly outranks the other, but they're like-minded and from a similar time. They've tried to kill us once, they'll probably try to do it again and maybe off you too. Mmm, this is really good."

"How do I know you don't have the same intentions?"

"You don't," Jane replied curtly. "For all you know, this could be a trap. Then again, I could have killed you already, and why would we bother telling you anything?"

"These other two, what are they like?"

"Not quite bad guys," Sheppard replied. "Corporal Adrian Shephard, USMC. He was sent into a government lab to contain some kind of alien invasion. Got screwed by his own people and had to make his own way out. General Shepherd- first name I don't know. Commander of American forces during an invasion of the Middle East. A nuke killed thousands of his men and after that he hatched a grand conspiracy to basically take over the world."

"Damn," the Director leaned back and tried to take it all in. "An alternate reality where we're fictional characters, with some godlike being telling us to kill each other or be stuck here. I still don't believe it."

"I do," John Sheppard said. "I've actually been to an alternate reality. Talked with myself. And there was this one time I met an alternate version of a guy I know. They didn't get along very well."

"You've been to alternate realities?" the two women asked.

"Well, yeah, it's sci-fi. Crazy stuff happens all the time."

"Yeah well, I think that beats being dead for a year," Jane replied. "By a long shot."

"You were dead for a year?" Jenny sputtered.

"It's a long story," Jane dismissed.

"So, do either of you know any ways to get back?" Jenny asked hopefully. She already knew the answer- but she could be wrong.

"Quantum mirror, matter bridge, properly misused Stargate," John suggested. "But we don't have any of those."

"We've got more pressing issues," Jane continued. "First off, both me and John are wanted criminals. And those two assholes are probably still after us. We need more weapons and a place to stay."

"I have a firearms license, but it's probably invalid here," Jenny replied. "No idea on where we can stay."

"What weapons do you have on you?" John asked. "I've got nothing." That surprised Jenny.

"One shotgun- same one I used to shoot you with, sorry about that- ten shells. One pistol I took off a cop- one full magazine and one half empty."

"I've got my handgun, one extra magazine," Jenny added, admitting that she was armed. It didn't surprise either of the other two.

"Bottom line is that we're going to need to- GET DOWN!" Jane yelled. She dived to the floor, taking Jenny down with her. Bullets ripped through the front window where they sat only moments before, completely obliterating it and continuing to rip apart the interior of the pizzeria.

A Molotov cocktail crashed through the window, starting a fire in the middle of the room. Jane crawled over to the bag she had carried in, snapping the helmet down over her head and grabbing the shotgun. The shotgun, however, seemed to be stuck on something.

"Use your own gun!" John hissed as another Molotov crashed through the destroyed window.

It was no time to argue. Jane let go and drew the pistol from beneath her coat. Making sure her kinetic barriers were active, she slowly peered above the counter. A white sedan was parked in the middle of the street, with the sunroof open and a man standing up inside. Jane stood up and brought her pistol up. It clicked when she pulled the trigger. Realizing her mistake, she flicked the safety off. Beside her, John blind-fired at the car with his shotgun, some of the pellets hitting. The man saw her and bullets slammed into her shields. Jane shot back, but the man quickly ducked inside and the car sped off, albeit with a few extra holes in it.

The owner rushed outside carrying a shotgun and fired fruitlessly at the retreating car, swearing in Italian. Finally, he realized it was a lost cause and sat down on the sidewalk.

"We should probably get out of here!" John suggested. The place was totally on fire and it was getting hot and smoky inside. Gingerly, the three stepped outside through the broken window.

The pizzeria owner/chef swore one last time in Italian, then turned to the trio of outsiders. "I heard you talking. You are having problems with the law and some people want you dead?"

"Basically, yes," Commander Jane Shepard admitted.

"Hmm," the man mumbled. "My name is Giovanni. I think my family can help you."


	8. The Family

"Nice house," Colonel John Sheppard commented. That was, without a doubt, a massive understatement. The mansion was situated looking out right over the ocean, and was massive in size, dwarfing the motel they had stayed at the night before. The grounds were as large as a good-sized farm, and were immaculately maintained. The inside of the mansion was pristine, furnished with the most expensive furnishings available and kept spotless. Only the massive amount of armed thugs betrayed the owner of the place. A valet service had parked their cheap, stolen cars right beside the Enzo Ferrari, stretch BMW and armoured Hummer.

Giovanni nodded as he led the group of three into the depths of the house. The guards, thugs, henchmen- whatever they were- watched them like hawks, no doubt ready to go for the guns hiding under their expensive jackets. The footprints they left on the tile floor were immediately scrubbed out by waiting servants.

"The whole place screams Mafia," Jenny whispered.

"Ya think?" Sheppard replied.

There was no further opportunity for discussion. A set of wide double doors opened up, leading them into what was clearly a kind of office. A massive window was set in the opposite wall, behind a massive desk made of solid wood. Six computer monitors sat atop the desk, along with a memo pad and a dozen solid gold pens in a holder. Portraits and landscapes, all originals, were mounted on the wall. The man behind the desk looked every part a Mafia don. His suit was from Seville Row in London, and made of pure Chinese silk. He put down the cigar in a handmade glass holder and stood up to embrace Giovanni.

"Giovanni! How have you been?" the don asked. Wait... that wasn't an Italian accent at all. It sounded more... Eastern European? "Who are the guests?"

"They showed up at my pizza shop-" which was no doubt a front "-and I overheard them talking about some men. Some men who have destroyed the entire place."

The don picked up his cigar again and took a contemplative puff. "Well, I am glad you are alive. Help yourself to a drink, a book, a game, what's mine is yours. The destruction of that operation will not go unpunished, I think. These two, I have heard of."

He called over a thug as Giovanni left. "Escort the redhead outside, please."

"What, you're just kicking me out?" Jenny asked.

"I know who you are, and I know I have no business with you, and I trust you none with me," the don replied simply.

"Well, all right," Jenny replied reluctantly. What could she do?

When the doors shut behind her and only the don, Sheppard and Shepard were left, he began again. "Welcome to my place. I am Ivan, and I have a proposal for you."

"Ivan?" John asked. "Is this the Russian mob or the Italian mob?"

Ivan laughed heartily. "We merged a few years back... more profitable, you see. Now we are one big happy family."

"So, what do you want from us?" Jane asked, eyeing the man.

"As I understand it, you are in some trouble with the law." Ivan pulled out of his minibar a bottle of vodka- premium Stolichnaya brand. He his guests a glass each.

Jane shot back hers in one gulp. Once considered one of the strongest beverages around, by Shepard's time it was eclipsed by many others, including most quarian liquor, Batarian Ale, and the infamous Ryncol. "I guess you could say that."

"How much do you know about us?" John asked, shooting back his own glass of the liquor. It had been his tenth in the last two days, but oh well.

"You are Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," Ivan answered, leaning back in his big leather chair. "United States Air Force. Received black mark for attempting to rescue your comrades in Afghanistan, which had you sent to McMurdo. You piloted the helicopter carrying General Jack O'Neill, successfully evading the Ancient drone weapon long enough for it to be shut off. After that, you joined the Atlantis expedition because of your strong ATA gene. There, you shot then replaced Colonel Sumner after a Wraith attack, then became military commander of the base. You engaged in several suicide missions, saving Atlantis and Earth several times."

Seeing Sheppard's questioning look, he added, "I own all five seasons."

"Uh-huh. And me?" Jane asked.

"Spectre- or Commander? I'm not sure which takes precedence. Jane Shepard, born on Mindoir April 11, 2154. Survived a devastating attack by Batarian slavers when you were sixteen and joined the Alliance military a few years later. Advanced rapidly into the N7 Special Forces branch of the Navy before being considered for Spectre status. You became a Spectre because of Saren's attack on Eden Prime, something I find very ironic. After that, you hunted Saren down to the ends of the galaxy and stopped the Reaper invasion. Then you died. Then you came back, well, you were brought back by Cerberus to stop the Collectors. Which you succeeded in doing. Honestly, you were not what I expected."

"What do you mean?" she asked, stunned by the accurate description.

Ivan opened his desk and pulled out what looked like a DVD case, but thicker. He tossed it to her.

Jane looked at it. "Mass Effect 2", it read. There was Miranda, and Thane, but who the hell was the guy in N7 armour. Oh... "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

A thin smile crept across the Russian's face. He poured another round of vodka and continued. "Whether you are who you say you are or not, I do not know. Frankly, I do not care. You have demonstrate that you are capable of great things. And there are some great things I need doing."

"Like what?" John asked.

"Oh, just call it a few small favours," Ivan replied. "A sort of 'owe you one' arrangement, if you will. In return, I can pull a few strings and have your names cleared. There is a place you can stay in, and of course I will provide the... tools of the trade."

"I don't like this," John muttered.

"Well, it's not as if you have any other choice," the don replied. "You are wanted by the police, hunted by others, know nothing of this place, and know nobody."

The two shared a look. "We'll do it," they replied.

Ivan smiled. "Good! I think you should see my doctor first, John, then we will have you properly equipped."

* * *

><p>The doctor turned out to be a chain smoking man with a German or Eastern European accent- neither of them could tell. "So, you've been shot, eh?" he asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.<p>

John nodded. "I see that often. Sit down on za table."

He did as he was told, and the doctor carefully removed the bloody dressing. "Okay, who the hell pulled the bullet out?"

"That would be me," Jane replied sheepishly from a chair in the corner.

"You should never remove a bullet from the wound!" the doctor admonished, adjusting his glasses. "It will only make the damage worse!"

"I'm a soldier, not a doctor," Jane protested.

"Yes, and I am Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger," the doctor said sarcastically, retrieving several items from a cabinet. He tore open a package and cleaned the wound with disinfectant.

"Damn, that stings," John complained, wincing.

Jane suppressed a laugh. "Don't be such a big baby."

"So, have you been shot and had the bullet pulled out not by a medical professional but- OW!" The doctor began sewing up the wound.

She shrugged. "I pulled a sixteen centimeter long piece of metal out of my own chest on Elysium. I did have medi-gel, though, so I guess it's not quite fair."

"Hah. I don't know where Elysium is, but I really doubt that," the doctor said, laughing.

"What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"Oh, please. You're trying to act like a badass, and it's just pathetic! I've met a lot of tough guys, and none of them have made such ludicrous claims. And you are a woman!"

"Hey!"

"Don't. Push. Her." John hissed.

"Women are weak! Yet now we have female firefighters, female cops, hell, even female fighter pilots. You're not a soldier- women aren't soldiers unless you're a fucking Israeli. And you never pulled a big chunk of metal out of your own chest! Even if you did have one in your chest, you would scream for a strong man to help you, like every other woman."

"Oh shit."

"I've had enough of your bullshit!" Commander Shepard walked up to the doctor and slammed her fist straight into his face. Blood splattered onto her gloved hands, all over the doctor's face, and even a little on John's bare chest.

The mafia member behind them smiled slightly. He was part New York Jew, and did not appreciate the doctor's anti-Semitic comments. "If you're done, I will escort you to the armoury."

"Armoury?" Jane's eyes lit up. "Guess I'm going to find out what the twenty-first century has to offer."

"I think you'll like at least some of it," John replied. "Say, did you really pull a six inch piece of metal out of your chest?"

"Well, not really. I snapped most of it off, then pulled the rest out when I had time."

The armoury was at least double the size of Ivan's office, and packed to the brim with weapons of all types, stored in racks, cabinets, and drawers. On closer inspection, it became noticeable that they were impeccably organized. The Kalashnikov derivatives went on one rack, the AR-15s on another, pump and auto shotguns on one, and so on and so forth. The pistols were kept below the longer guns in cabinet, with the ammo below. They, too, were precisely sorted.

"Take whatever you want, the boss takes care of his friends," the mobster said to them as they began exploring the room.

"This place has more guns than an NRA convention," John observed humorously. "Hell, the Atlantis armoury was smaller, and it was the only source of guns in the entire galaxy! Well, not quite, but you know what I mean."

"NRA? What's the NRA?" Jane guessed it was some kind of gun club.

"National Rifle Association. It's sort of an organization for gun nuts."

"Ah, like the GGO."

"GGO? What's the GGO?" John echoed.

"Galactic Gun Organization- it sounds better in New Standard Turian. Basically the same. Damn, I don't even know where to begin."

"Might I suggest you choose handguns first?" the mobster asked.

"All right, sounds good." Jane replied. "You got a name?"

"Goscislaw," he replied sheepishly.

"That's Polish, right?" John asked.

"Yeah. Everyone calls me Jerry, or just G. For obvious reasons."

"Got any suggestions, Jerry?" Jane asked. All the weapons looked so foreign- yet surprisingly modern.

He picked up a small, blocky pistol and held it out for Jane. "Glock 17, chambered in nine millimeter. Nice and small, light recoil."

Jane took the weapon and examined it. It felt light in her hands, having no mass to it at all. Out of curiosity, she tapped the frame. Plastic. It obviously wasn't a cheap weapon, in fact, it was quite high quality, but too light. Spotting a much different gun, she handed the Glock back.

"What about this one?" She picked up the weapon. It was almost twice the size of the Glock 17, and made of silver metal. This one she could tell was powerful. It was heavy, and felt good in her hands.

"That's a Desert Eagle, fifty Action Express. I wouldn't recommend it, miss. You see, every woman- and half the men- can't shoot that thing without breaking something." It was hyperbole, but not by much.

"Well, I guess I'll be the first."

"If you are adamant, I insist you try it first. Better to find out now than to find out when you really need to, right?"

"Right." She followed Jerry next door into the range. _Oh yeah, these haven't changed._

Jerry attached a large paper target to a ceiling mounted clip, then hit a button that sent it downrange. He handed Jane a loaded magazine and motioned for her to begin.

It took the Commander a few seconds to rack the slide and find the safety, which she flicked off. She held it out with one hand and carefully aimed down the sights. Jerry warned, "I wouldn't use just one-"

She fired all seven rounds, one after the other, until the slide locked back. Jane looked at the weapon. "Hmm. Recoil seems fine to me."

* * *

><p>Jenny was a little out of her league.<p>

There was the stupid-looking Air Force officer that had actually been to another galaxy. And had a very high IQ. And had fought some kind of alien not dissimilar to a vampire. He seemed to be a pretty nice guy, at least.

Then there was his friend, who was Navy... well, _a_ Navy, anyway. She came from a hundred and eighty years of a different future. She seemed pretty normal for a female soldier, until Jenny found out that she died once and came back. At least she wasn't evil. By the book, maybe not so much.

Of course there were the people going after them. General Shepherd, an insane Russian-hating general with a plan to take over the world in the name of the USA. Right now he seemed to have an obsession with killing all the other Sheps. Except Corporal Shephard, the elite USMC marine, who he would probably wait to kill until he was no longer useful.

The whole situation was ridiculous. Magically transported into a world where they exist but don't. To most of the others, the place was alien to some degree, but it was nearly identical for Jenny. Except for the aforementioned fact that NCIS was nothing but a TV show.

She had no idea what to do, where to go. The villain she had been chasing was nothing but a script and a few wiki articles. Everyone she knew didn't exist, and nobody knew or believed who she really was- wasn't, whatever. She had a gun, a worthless badge, a few pills and a couple hundred dollars to her name.

Jenny slipped a bill onto the bar. "Give me another one."

* * *

><p>Jane had, as John had predicted, gone for the largest rifle available. She selected a Barrett M107 rifle for long distance shooting. At nearly five feet long, it was a massive weapon. It had to be- making a smaller .50 BMG semi-automatic rifle would by physically impossible. Surprisingly, she grabbed a much more sane HK417 for up close and personal work. It was still a little overpowered, but not insanely so.<p>

John went with what he knew- a G36K assault rifle and Colt M1911 pistol. They loaded the weapons into the trunk of a silver Toyota Corolla. Jerry explained that that was also courtesy of the Mafia. He got into the driver's seat, allowing the other two into the back.

"I can't believe it," Jane said after they exited the parking lot.

"Believe what?"

She shoved the 'Mass Effect 2' game case in John's face. "This guy. Who is this guy?"

"I think he's supposed to be you," John replied. He quickly added, "And no, I did not mean that to sound like it did."

"They couldn't even get my gender right," she spat.

John took the case and read the back. "Well, it's an RPG. Maybe you can pick the gender?"

"The guy on the cover is male. Their mascot, if you were to put it that way, is male. It's like the real Commander Shepard is supposed to be male."

"Male, female, hermaphrodite, there's an alternate universe for each one. And no, don't try to think about that. It will make your brain hurt. A lot."

"Yeah, I'll try not to. But I'm calling BioWare and giving them a piece of my mind."

"I won't stop you."

The driver interrupted, "If you're done, you can get out now. We've stopped. In fact, we've been stopped for the last five minutes."

It turned out that their destination was a townhouse only two blocks away from the mansion. Jerry handed them each a set of keys. "It's yours for as long as the boss decides. When he wants you out, you'll know."

"Real reassuring," John quipped, leaving the vehicle. "Well, thanks, I guess."

"No problem," Jerry replied, popping the trunk open from inside the car. They took their bags and John closed the trunk. Jerry began heading in the opposite direction, back toward Ivan's mansion.

The house was small but new, covered in light grey vinyl siding with a shingle roof. The lawn barely extended past the front of the house, but it was bright green, weed-free and immaculately trimmed. A cobblestone path ran up to the front entrance door.

"Flimsy, you could probably kick this door open," Jane remarked. She examined the entrance key and the holes in the door. Fortunately, the direction turned to unlock had not changed, and the door easily swung open.

"Well, yeah, we're not paranoid," John replied, following her into the house. The foyer was large and open, with a hallway and staircase to the upper storey directly in front of them. There was also a door on the right leading to a garage, and one on the left leading into an extra bedroom. The walls were drywall, painted a clean white, and the floor was tiled with real porcelein. Through the hallway, a bathroom and laundry room could be accessed.

They headed upstairs. The wood steps were shiny, which guaranteed two things. That they would be slippery, and that the aggressive treads on Jane's boots would absolutely trash the finish. The first point was proven when John, preoccupied with taking in the sights, slipped and almost fell before Jane caught him.

"You really like doing things backwards, don't you?" he asked.

"Would you prefer I just let you fall down the stairs?"

John raised his hands. "No, I'm not complaining."

The upper storey was open to the entrance below, save for a stylized metal railing. The kitchen was small but equipped with all premium stainless steel appliances. Behind it sat an eating area, with the living room on the opposite side of the staircase. A leather sofa, glass coffee table and seventy inch flat panel display occupied that room. Behind the living room was a single bedroom with attached bath.

"Pretty nice place," John remarked. He opened the fridge out of curiosity. "Seems to be well stocked, too."

"I kind of like it," Jane agreed. "It's... rustic."

"Rustic? Are you kidding me? This is probably the most modern house I've been in!"

"By twenty-first century standards, I suppose," Jane replied. "Well, let's get settled in."


	9. Grand Conspiracy Theory

It's short, yes, but I think it does a decent job of setting things up for the next portion of the story. Sorry about the wait, I've been busy with various things.

* * *

><p>"Fate has a way of fucking you up the ass.<p>

"Years of planning and preparation can all go to hell in one moment. The United States would have been the most powerful nation in the world. Now we'd be lucky to get through the next ten years.

"This America isn't any better. We're fighting a losing war in Iraq, a losing war in Afghanistan, and are going to be fighting a losing war in Libya. I'm an American first and foremost. I don't want to see my country bow to Chinese oppression.

"No self-respecting man would stand by and let that happen. So I'm going to do something about it. A lot of people aren't going to like what I have in mind. History is written by the victor- if I win, I'll be a hero. If I lose, people will remember me as an insane extremist that brought America to her knees.

"It's a different world out there, but it's still the same shit, different day."

"Uh, sir?" Adrian said, poking his head in the doorway. "You're talking to yourself."

"I have every goddamn right to talk to myself," the General cursed. "I did not appreciate stories from your troubled childhood."

"Sir?"

"You talk in your sleep, damn it!"

* * *

><p>"There's only one bed," Jane called. "And as much as I'm sure you'd like me to, I'm not sleeping with you. Figuratively or literally. I'll sleep on the floor."<p>

"What? No, I'll sleep on the floor. It's not fair to make a lady do it."

"You know, it's not the first time. I've slept on all kinds of weird places. Chairs, couches, tents, the ground, below the engine room of the Normandy-"

"Below the engine room?"

"It's nice and warm!" she protested. "We didn't have very good sleeping arrangements on the SR-1."

"Was that the one that-" John gestured with his arm. He began to unpack their few belongings.

"Yeah. That's the one that blew up with me in it."

"Well, that doesn't sound fun. Huh."

"What?" Jane asked, turning.

"McKay's USB drive, with all his scientific knowledge on it. Me and Zelenka pulled a bit of a prank on him. Don't look at me like that- we were planning to give it back! But I lost it and couldn't find it. Rodney was really pissed- he wouldn't talk to me for a week after I told him."

He held it out to Jane. "You might as well have it. Rodney had everything backed up anyway. If we do find a way back, you're going to need to more than I do."

Slowly, she examined the device. It didn't look very impressive- but neither did an OSD. It was the data inside that would count. "What kind of stuff is on here?"

"Schematics, formulas, ramblings of a mad scientist," John shrugged. "It could break your galaxy away from mass effect tech. Or it could be completely useless."

"Well, thanks, I-" A loud 'ding-dong' interrupted them. Jane immediately grabbed her pistol off the side table, making sure it was loaded and cocked.

"Relax, it's just the doorbell." John headed down the stairs, and she followed behind him. As he opened the door, she leaned against the wall, concealing her pistol behind her. She wished she hadn't taken off her armour, but then again, apparently it was a much safer time.

The man at the door was Jeff again. He handed John a large brown envelope. "The boss has an assignment for you," he said simply before turning and leaving.

"Well, that was quick," Jane commented. "What's in the envelope?"

They headed back upstairs, and the envelope ended up tossed on the kitchen table. Inside was a wad of documents, paper-clipped together. A hand-written note was on top. John unfolded it and they peered at the letter together, reading it in unison.

* * *

><p>Even as he expressed his self-doubts, a plan began to form in the General's head. Looking around and making sure that Adrian was really gone, he continued his monologue.<p>

"A wise man once said that if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. A wiser man once said to give back the lemons and set his house on fire. They look at the new world and see a new opportunity.

"Fuck that. I know when I'm being screwed over. But maybe the first man was right. Maybe I can make some use of it. It won't be the same- I know that. America is even worse off here. It may not be the same America, but it's still America."

"The same plan won't work- I'm not a general and the world is completely different. It'll take some subterfuge and some political wrangling, and maybe a lot of violence. More than likely the world will be a smoking ruin when we're through. But that's a risk I'm going to have to live with."

He left the room and headed back into the kitchen. "I'm going to need some flights booked."

* * *

><p>Jenny was feeling a little woozy. Actually, that was an understatement. She felt as if someone had smashed her over the head and then done it again. A small voice in the back of her mind screamed that she had been drugged. Then again, she had drank quite a bit.<p>

Mumbling something as an excuse, she stumbled away from the bar. Her head swam. How many had it really been? Enough to mash her jumbled thoughts into one mushy ball. She wasn't a heavy drinker- an occasional bourbon with Gibbs or a glass of wine with dinner.

Halfway to the exit, Jenny's legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. She barely registered being picked up and carried into some sort of vehicle before passing out completely.

* * *

><p>In a small weapons lab operated by DARPA, a box no larger than that which might hold a loaf of bread was brought in. As soon as he dropped it off, the courier left, leaving three men in the room. One was a weapons system engineer, the other one a scientist. The third man identified himself only as "Mister Johnson" of "The Agency". He did not give a first name or which agency he worked for.<p>

Gleefully, the two brainiacs ripped open the box with the same amount of care one might use one a highly anticipated parcel came in. The tape, and one of the cardboard flaps, was torn off. Inside was a sheet of plastic designed to defeat X-rays and other scanners, which was tossed aside. The box was full of packing peanuts, so the engineer turned the box upside down above a table until the contents fell out with a loud clank.

They brushed aside the packing peanuts, making a huge mess on the floor. When they were done, what was left was clearly identifiable as an extremely large handgun. Visible on it's side, in worn letters, was "M-6 CARNIFEX"

"What the hell?" Jane blurted out upon finishing the letter. "Okay, it's not totally impossible, but 'bad idea' is a major understatement."

"You know, I've been on a lot of impossible missions," John agreed, making the obvious reference, "But even by my standards, this is a bit ridiculous."

There was an awkward silence, followed by, "Guess we're going to need a plan."

* * *

><p>"What have you got, Agent Smith?" the man asked. He was a big man, African-American, with short rapidly greying hair. His suit was expensive and well-cut, and he wore a matching black tie. Around him were high-resolution monitors and several technicians behind computers. The room was lit only by the glow of the LCD panels and was incredibly cold to protect the delicate electronics. Two nondescript white men in suits were arranged on the displays.<p>

The one on the right replied in a cold, emotionless matter-of-fact tone, "Interrogation of the suspect was unsuccessful. He was successfully forced out of his coma but yielded no information due to brain damage. However, a document listing possible co-conspirators was found near the site. You should have a copy, Director."

Nodding slightly, the Director replied, "Indeed I do. What did the cops have to say?"

"Though initially uncooperative, the local authorities eventually revealed their information. The subject was argumentative and they believed she was taking hallucinogens. She grabbed a gun off a cop and walked off with a hostage. The hostage went by a name on the list, and a coincidence is unlikely."

The Director shook his head. "Fucking incompetent cops." After a short pause, he mused. "Fictional characters, all Shepard or some variation thereof. You gotta admit, they've got a sense of humour. Agent Johnson, what do you have?"

"The device was delivered to the specialist lab, as ordered. The scientists have managed to load and fire the weapon, and they are very impressed. The report should have already been sent in. One of them asked me to tell you that they really want the armour. He said, and I quote- 'it would be revolutionary if it was even half as advanced'."

"Mmm," the Director muttered. "Five conspirators, unknown goals and unknown motives. One of them is a female supersoldier with the most advanced technology on the planet. Another is military, or at least paramilitary. And we don't know a flying fuck about any of the others."

"Keep me posted," he said, and cut the connection. As an afterthought, he said to one of the technicians, "What is the status of Foxtrot Team?"

"Subject recovered and in transit, sir."


	10. Shock and Awe

For 2012, a brand new installment of Battle of The Sheps!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 - Shock and Awe<strong>

Jane woke up gradually, her head swimming and pounding and her body feeling like it was on fire. She forced her eyes open, and found that she was surrounded by rubble, and partially buried by it. The sight of another figure, a bloodied man buried further than her, galvanized her into action. "John!"

Artifically augmented muscles straining against sheer weight, she forced herself upwards, pushing the rubble off her legs and cringing at the effort. Her legs had been smashed up and blood soaked through her pants, but fortunately her titanium-reinforced bones hadn't snapped. She stumbled over to her fallen comrade and knelt beside him.

Quickly, Jane felt for a pulse. John was alive! Adrenaline coursing through her system, she yanked the rubble away, revealing a battered body in torn clothes. John's eyes fluttered open. He asked weakly, "Are we still alive?"

"Yeah, we're still alive," Jane replied, helping him stumbled upwards. "Even after all that, we're still alive."

* * *

><p><em>Six Hours Earlier<em>

"Find this guy," John held up the picture, "Track him to his base, and then destroy the place."

"Sounds like something out of a B-vid," Jane spat. "I think I know why, though."

"A test."

Jane nodded. "A test. Ivan wants to see what we're capable of."

* * *

><p><em>Five Hours Earlier<em>

"_So, we're going to need to find him first," John said, getting down to business. "Apparently, there's a strip club this guy likes to go to-"_

"_No. Hell no. I am not posing as a stripper. We wait outside, then when he leaves, we'll follow him."_

The strip club (probably more than that, she noted cynically) was a fancy-looking place, but Jane was sure that it was extremely sleazy inside. The windows were blacked out, which was probably a good thing. She leaned against the wall, dressed in black cargo pants, her usual long coat, leather gloves and hiking boots. A small earpiece was embedded in her left ear. A little bit conspicuous, but not too bad. Most importantly, the Desert Eagle she carried wasn't clearly visible. She tried to appear bored, as if she was waiting for someone. It was dark, so more than likely a lot of people wouldn't even notice her.

"_Act like you're waiting for somebody. Don't worry, I'll be in the car if someone decides that he doesn't want to wait until he's inside-"_

"_If some jerk even gets that thought, I'll kick his ass."_

A man in what was once a nice suit but had become ruffled and messy came up to her. He smelled of booze, was clearly quite inebriated. "Hey baby, let's say you-"

"No."

He was taken aback. "What do you mean? I've got cash-"

"I'm not a hooker," Jane spat, accentuating the syllables.

"Well, then, how about we have a nice dinner, you and me. I'm sure you'll like me once you get to know me."

"_You know I'm going to break someone's neck if they piss me off enough."_

"_Just try to avoid doing too much damage."_

He smiled and put his arm across Jane's shoulder. As soon as he did it, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. As the man shouted and attempted to wrangle free, she drew her gun and shoved it into his back. "I don't like you, and you don't like me."

"Let's not be so hasty-"

She jammed the gun in a little harder. "Leave right now, or I will kill you."

"Okay, okay!" The man sputtered. Jane let go of his arm, and he rather stupidly tried to attack her. A rather loud gunshot put an end to that, and the man stumbled for his car.

"_Now that I think of it," Jane said, "Maybe a gunshot or two would speed our friend up."_

_John's only response had been a quiet "Mmmm..."_

A crowd of men and women, some only half dressed, ran out of the door. Some simply ran down the street, others rushed for their cars. In the panicked crowd, Jane spotted their target. "He's headed for a black car, looks like a nice one."

"Mercedes," John clarified. "I've got him."

Jane headed for their own vehicle. Her pistol was back in its holster and hidden under her coat. She moved quickly but calmly, something that would distinguish her among the panicked masses but a habit that was impossible to break. She got in the passenger seat of their own silver Mazda and shut the door. The engine was already running, and they took off after the black Mercedes that their quarry was riding in.

"_How are we supposed to chase him without getting caught?" Jane asked. "There's two of us and one of him?"_

"_We don't have to," John replied, reading the file. "This guy's paranoid. If he thinks he's in danger, he's going to head-"_

"_-to the safest place he knows," Jane finished. "He's going to go home."_

"_Hounds to the hunters. Nope, wrong metaphor."_

John drove the vehicle aggressively, staying behind the Mercedes. It didn't escape his notice that the other car was also moving aggressively, speeding and dodging through traffic. Fortunately, there wasn't much of the latter to worry about.

Beside him, Jane had shrugged out of her coat and was donning an Interceptor vest. She would have preferred her own N7 armour, but it was difficult to put on quickly and someone would notice it for sure. The crude armour was not particularly heavy, but rather restrictive and of dubious usefulness. It did provide attachment points for other gear, which was handy. She moved her pistol to a hip holster and grabbed her HK417 out of the back.

"You ready?" John asked, bringing the car to a stop. They were parked on the street, near but not right beside a very well maintained estate.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Jane replied casually, stepping out of the vehicle.

"_Is this really a good idea?" Jane asked, bringing the inevitable point up. "It might just get even more people after us."_

"_True," John agreed. "But do we really have much of a choice? Ivan's the closest thing we have to an ally here."_

"_Yeah, you know you're in a good position when the only person that can help you is a crime lord." She changed subjects. "Well, we don't know what the place looks like, so we'll have to think up of a plan on the fly."_

"Four snipers on the roof," Jane announced, looking through her binoculars. "I can take care of that pretty quickly."

"Gate looks heavily guarded, and there's nowhere to hide along the front," John noted. "Hmm, I think we can sneak through the woods."

Jane surveyed the scene. The forest bordered on the west edge of the property, and though it was fenced, it appeared to be unguarded. Better yet, there wasn't a lot of distance from the treeline to the house. She began to pack several items from the car into a backpack. "Once we get to the house, we can rappel up the side and go in through the roof."

"And we plant these as we go," John added, holding up a block of C4 explosive. He grabbed his own weapon as Jane slung her backpack, then her M107. It felt wrong to let her carry the majority of the load, but she was actually the stronger of the two. He took his own weapon from the car and closed the trunk.

Thunder could be heard in the distance, and there was a light drizzle in the air which quickly turned into a shower. The forest was fairly dense and had few trails. The conditions were terrible, and the two very quickly found themselves being drenched in water and constantly whacked by branches.

"If I knew it was going to be so wet," Jane complained, "I would have worn my armour and damn the consequences."

"Tell me about it," John muttered.

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest. Both of them were cold, wet and miserable. Lying behind a small rise, Jane unslung her sniper rifle, loaded it, and set it up on its bipod. The angle was not that great, and if the guards had been in their proper positions she wouldn't have been able to hit them. Fortunately, they had all decided to gather in one spot, though she couldn't tell why. "Ready."

"Do it."

Jane slowly squeezed the trigger, feeling the recoil hammer her in the shoulder. She quickly squeezed off three more shots, taking down the other guards, then as an afterthought shot the one by the gate. She stood up, leaving the rifle where it was. "To the house! Move!"

They sprinted the short distance to the mansion, readying grappling hooks as they did. In turn, both of them launched their hook onto the roof. Both caught, and quickly the duo began climbing upwards.

Jane immediately found that it wasn't going to be easy or fast. Her gloves, not designed for grip at all, were wet and slick, as was the rope. Especially with the added weight of an assault rifle, body armour, and backpack full of explosives, she was heavy. However, the bullets hammering the wall beside her were motivation to move up the wall. Just when she was about to reach the top, however, the hook ripped through the gutter and let go.

She fell for a moment, then jerked to a stop. John had grabbed her arm, stopping her from plunging to the ground below. John pulled as hard as he could, and Jane struggled to push herself upward against the wall with her feet and the bent gutter with her hand. Somehow, they managed to make it onto the rooftop.

"How much do you weigh?" John asked, panting.

"One hundred and ten kilograms," she recited.

"That's like two hundred and fifty pounds!" John replied incredulously.

"You know what they say. Cybernetics weigh more than fat." Jane looked around. "Let's get moving."

She dropped the pack and opened it, tossing some of the C4 to John. They quickly placed it all around the roof. It was far from an ideal way of doing it, but would at least provide a backup if they couldn't place any more.

"Done and done," Jane said, slinging the backpack on her shoulders again. She pointed to a hatch hidden in the flat roof. "Roof access."

"I'll flash, then you drop first." John pried the hatch open, dropped a flashbang in, then shut it again. There was a muffled bang, a scream, and then he opened the hatch again and Jane dropped inside.

There were three confused men in the hallway. Without pausing, Jane shot each one of them. One of the doors, at the end of the hallway, was very ornate. There was a much more austere one to their right, and Jane kicked it open.

"_Plant the explosives first," Jane suggested._

"_Yeah," John agreed. "If there's a furnace room or something, that would be a good place to put it. Just toss it around. We have plenty and a bigger boom is always better."_

They rushed down the stairs. Halfway down, a wrench slammed into Jane's side. It hurt quite a bit, in fact it probably would have been debilitating to most people. There was a sickening crack of a SAPI plate shattering, rendering it useless to protect against bullets. As soon as she spotted the assailant, Jane swung her rifle around and emptied the rest of the magazine into him at point blank. Blood splattered her clothing, the rifle, and the walls around them.

"They're coming down!" John shouted as his partner reloaded. He fired his own weapon into the crowd of bodyguards rushing down the stairs, running after Jane as he did so. As soon as they made it through the bottom door, he tossed a grenade in and closed it behind them.

Running towards the furnace room, they haphazardly tossed blocks of C4 around the corridor. Jane wrenched open the large steel door at the end. Furnaces, boilers, and distribution panels. Perfect. The remainder of the explosive was tossed behind a hot water heater.

John was waiting outside, weapon at the ready. He leaned against the wall beside a set of sliding doors. "Elevator, it'll get us up much faster."

"_Ivan wants this guy dead, and he wants proof," John stated. "Guess we're going to have to get a picture."_

"_And, you know, get to him first," Jane added sarcastically. "You said it yourself. This guy's paranoid. He's going to be behind layers of armed guards and security. Where might that be..."_

"_His office," John replied, snapping his fingers. "His office will be secured. Either he'll be in it, or he'll be in a safe room near it."_

The elevator doors opened, revealing five men with Uzis. Jane felt something thump into her chest as she ducked out of the line of fire. She blind-fired into the elevator with one hand, ripping the men inside to pieces.

"Damn," John muttered. As they ducked inside, Jane felt where she had been hit. It was bruised, but not too badly. The ceramic plate had probably saved her life. She leaned up against the side of the elevator, near the control panel, as the doors opened, then peeked out.

"All clear," she stated, then led the way toward the big door to the target's office. With a hard kick, she sent it off its hinges, and they entered with guns drawn and ready.

The only person in the room was their target. He sat behind his desk, smoking a cigar. Spotting the two, he put down the cigar and sat up straight. He had a slight Italian accent. "So, I take it Ivan wants me dead?"

"You know what they say," John replied, smirking. "Crime doesn't pay."

The man chuckled, then burst out laughing. "That... you are about to kill me and you say that? That is the most ridiculously cliched and overused line _ever_. That's all you can come up with."

"Time's up," Jane said snarkily, and shot him in the head. He slumped down and fell face-first onto the desk, blood forming a pool on the polished mahogany. John began to remove the camera from his vest when he was interrupted by the distinctive sound of guns being cocked.

"Put the weapons down." Wall panels had opened, revealing gunmen with assault rifles. Through the main door came a man that looked just like the one they had just killed, down to the clothes he wore. "I am Joe Moretti. I am the man you are looking for. And I advise that you drop your weapons."

Silently, the two intruders unslung their assault rifles and let them drop to the floor. Joe added, "All of your weapons, if you please."

Jane looked at John, who shrugged. An array of pistols, grenades, and a lone stick of C4 dropped to the floor.

"John and Jane Shepherd, the dynamic duo," Joe continued to gloat. "You turned to my dear friend Ivan for help. Well, perhaps we are not all intelligent enough to choose the correct side to be on."

He shrugged. "A mistake that cannot be rectified, I am afraid. If you had come to me in a more peaceful manner, I would gladly offer my friendship. Unfortunately, at this point, I have all the reason to eliminate you, and no reasons at all to keep you alive."

In a movement that might have appeared as instinctive, John glanced at his watch. Then he winked at Jane.

"_So, how should I set this up?" Jane asked, examining the explosives and detonators layed out in front of her."_

"_Remote control, with a fifteen minute backup timer," John replied, assembling one of the devices. "That way, even if we have to run off, it'll still blow."_

"_No, I mean how do I do it?" Jane clarified. "I have no idea how these go together."_

"_Oh. That."_

"Kill-" Joe began to order, but before he could finish his sentence, the world exploded around them.

Jane woke up gradually, her head swimming and pounding and her body feeling like it was on fire. She forced her eyes open, and found that she was surrounded by rubble, and partially buried by it. The sight of another figure, a bloodied man buried further than her, galvanized her into action. "John!"

Artifically augmented muscles straining against sheer weight, she forced herself upwards, pushing the rubble off her legs and cringing at the effort. Her legs had been smashed up and blood soaked through her pants, but fortunately her titanium-reinforced bones hadn't snapped. She stumbled over to her fallen comrade and knelt beside him.

Quickly, Jane felt for a pulse. John was alive! Adrenaline coursing through her system, she yanked the rubble away, revealing a battered body in torn clothes. John's eyes fluttered open. He asked weakly, "Are we still alive?"

"Yeah, we're still alive," Jane replied, helping him stumble upwards. "Even after all that, we're still alive."

"How long was I out?" John cringed as he attempted to put weight on his right leg. "Aaaaagh, I think it's broken."

"A while," Jane said in response to the first question. "And yeah, it's probably broken."

There was a wail of sirens in the distance, and she added, "We have to get out of here."

"Yeah," John agreed. He didn't resist when Jane threw him over her shoulders, but muttered something about it being completely backwards. "Isn't the guy supposed to carry the girl to safety, and then they get married?"

"No and no," Jane replied as they headed back towards the waiting Mazda.

* * *

><p><em>Meanwhile, at CIA Headquarters...<em>

"How's our friend?" the Director asked as Agent Lynch came into the room.

"The subject still remains uncooperative, sir. She insists that she is the director of NCIS and continually requests to converse with someone of a higher position."

"Did you get anything out of her?"

"She confirmed her name as Jenny Shepard, though it is most likely an alias, sir."

The Director chuckled. "No shit it's an alias. Jenny Shepard's been dead for years."

"Sir?"

"You ever watched NCIS, son?"

Without skipping a beat, the junior agent replied, "I've worked with them twice, once in '09 and once in '04."

"I'm talking about the TV show."

"Never seen it, sir."

"Uh-huh. I thought so."

"What are your orders, Director? Should we begin using enhanced interrogation techniques."

The Director shook his head. "No, no, there's no need. I'll go see her."

The interrogation room was much like the one at NCIS, Jenny reflected. Security camera in the corner, single door kept locked, and a large mirror that was probably two-way. Of course, the table and chair weren't bolted down at NCIS, and the walls were painted something more pleasant than ugly grey.

An African-American man in a much nicer suit than the two generic agents that had previously been in the room entered, on his own. He reached out with his hand, which Jenny gingerly took. "I'm Stephen Houser, Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency."

He sat down across from her. "Now, I gave you my name, so I'd appreciate it if you returned the favour."

For the umpteenth time, Jenny replied, "Jenny Shepard. Director of NCIS."

Houser shrugged. "Thought you might say that. I take it that you're not going to give your real name?"

"That is my real name, as far as I know."

"You took a pretty good whack to the head. There are documented cases of people forgetting their identity and taking on what used to be a mere cover. In fact, they made a movie about it."

"So I've heard."

"Well, I suppose that it doesn't really matter anyway." He shrugged. "You're working with a few other people. I want to know what it is you're really up to."

"We're not-"

"Don't deny it," the Director snapped. "We saw you meet. Documented it, in fact. That was a real clever trick, by the way. Make it look like a random hit and run. Being dead is useful, ain't it?"

"I don't know." Jenny answered simply.

"Bullshit. You're part of some group. And every group, no matter what it is, has goals."

"We might have some," Jenny admitted carefully. "But whatever they were, I don't remember them."

"Hit you pretty hard, didn't they?" The man chuckled again. "Well, shit happens."

"Let me out of here."

"I don't think so."

Jenny leaned toward the man. "You want information. I want out of here. Let's make a deal."

Stephen leaned toward her. "What can you tell me."

"John and Jane. They're working with someone. I can tell you who. And I can tell you where to find them."

"Who?"

"No. You let me out first."

The Director leaned back, considering his options. Then, to Jenny's surprise, he replied, "Okay."

* * *

><p><em>Libya<em>

The attack had been sudden. The bunker had filled with choking gas that literally brought the defenders to their knees. Incapacitated, the guards weren't able to mount any sort of defence at all, and were quickly massacred.

Only minutes from the beginning of the attack, two men carrying assault rifles and wearing gasmasks broke through the door to the dictator's office, his last safe haven.

"What are you doing?" he asked, first in Arabic, then in English. "I can-"

One of the men raised his sidearm, a silver revolver, and pressed it to the dictator's head. "Goodbye, Muammar."

He pulled the trigger, and the dictator was no more.

As they left, the other man asked, "How long do you think it'll take before they discover the body?"

"The loyalists are gonna cover it up," he replied, shrugging. "Could be months. But it doesn't matter. We've taken one down, four more to go."

* * *

><p>Within the next few days, expect new releases of SGD, Reboot: Mass Effect, and very possibly some new stories for 2012!<p> 


End file.
